


Your Hands: My Collar

by The67ImpalaDragonChild



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt James T. Kirk, Idiots in Love, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Poor Spock, Protective Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, have you figured out it's a soulmate fic yet?, the boys all need hugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-06-29 22:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15738876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The67ImpalaDragonChild/pseuds/The67ImpalaDragonChild
Summary: From the moment he was born, everyone knew James Tiberius Kirk's soulmate was going to try and kill him. Not just in a metaphorical way. They were literally going to kill him. He had their pity.Spock has always known that he will have two soulmates. But will the one survive?Leonard knows that he has a soulmate. He just isn't at all prepared for what's coming.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> But... you already have three ongoing stories...?!
> 
> Yeah but... the fucking plot bunny won't LEAVE ME ALONE and it's nibbling holes in my sweaters!
> 
> Literally all you need to know about this soulmate au is that you have a mark where your soulmate will touch you for the first time. It turns black when they do, pales when they're hurt, and goes bone white like a scar when they die. That's it. That's all you need to know. Enjoy the story!

* * *

Wynona Kirk cried when she saw her baby boy for the first time.

As she lay on a medical shuttle’s biobed, curled around her tiny little baby, she cried again. There was a mark on her boy. A mark that showed where his soulmate would first touch his skin with their own. 

Her own mark was a dark thumb and forefinger on her hip where her shirt had ridden up on that fateful day. George had wrapped an arm around her waist and the rest, as they say, was history. It burned underneath her medical gown now. The pain a harsh reminder that her mark was slowly bleaching itself bone white. Within three days, the change would be complete. The burning would last about a week, then fade. But it would never be gone completely.

Her mark would always be sensitive to the touch.

Her son’s mark was the pale pink of an unactivated soulmark. And he was born with it already in place. It meant that her son’s soulmate was older. Otherwise the mark would’ve appeared later. She traced the mark with her fingers, sobs choking her. She gently turned her baby’s head. Tears streaked down her face. The pale pink mark completely circled his neck. There were blobby offshoots on the sides. As he grew, the mark would stretch with his skin and would become clear and distinct. But what touch would wrap all the way around his neck, completely uninterrupted?

Wynona Kirk’s soul screamed into the void for the other half of her soul. Screamed in pain, and loss, and loneliness. Screamed in rage, and defiance, and fear. It wasn’t fair.

Her son’s soulmate would try to kill him some day.

There was no other explanation.

* * *

 


	2. The Buckle

* * *

It was a collar.

Jim ran the strip of plain black leather through his fingers. It was a solid two and a half inches wide, a silver buckle on the back. The leather was heavy and thick. Supple. The inside was soft and smooth so it wouldn’t chafe his neck.

It was large enough to cover most of his mark.

He thumbed the leather, a tear slipping down his cheek. His mark had never been anything but a source of pain. His mother hadn’t been able to look at it when he was small and it was nothing but blobby marks circling his neck. When he’d gotten older, and the blobs began to separate into individual fingers, she’d fled back up into space. The kids at school had made fun of his mark until little Jimmy had made it clear that he could protect himself in very clever ways. When Jim was older, his Uncle Frank had had _nothing_ good to say about it. 

One of the few who never said a word about it was his brother Sam.

The other, was Sarah. 

She sat across the way from him, wringing her hands in worry. But the auburn haired young woman steadfastly stayed in her seat and anxiously waited for his reaction to her gift. She was the oldest of his friends, and truthfully the only one that he trusted. Which was why he trusted her to have her heart in the right place. Trusted that the collar was meant kindly.

Jim swallowed hard. “What happened to the ‘no shame’ school of thought?”

“I… well… Look, I stand by that. There’s absolutely _nothing_ wrong with your mark, and you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. But… at the same time, there’s nothing wrong with protecting yourself. You’re going away to Star Fleet, and I won’t be there to help you. I mean, I’m only a shuttle ride away, but  _ still _ …”

She was worried. 

Jim couldn’t help his giggle. Sarah had always worried. The first time Jim had seen her, he’d been on the bottom of a rowdy dog pile and Sarah had thrown herself in to defend him. She’d come out with a split lip and a black eye. Jim had come out with substantially more; including a best friend. They’d been thick as thieves ever since. She was the little sister he’d never known he wanted. But he’d needed her.

God help him, but he had needed her  _ desperately _ .

She was the only one who’d noticed when Frank had sent him away to Tarsus IV. She was also the only one who’d noticed when he’d limped back to Riverside because he had nowhere else to go. She didn't know where he'd been, and she'd never asked. She knew it was bad. She trusted that he would tell her when and if he needed or wanted to. And she knew that day would likely never come. 

Jim reached across the space between them and fitted his hand across the pale pink mark on her cheek. For years, everyone had been convinced that Sarah would someday be slapped by her soulmate. That her soulmate would abuse her. 

She refused to accept it. 

She also refused to let Jim accept that his first touch would be his soulmate trying to choke the life out of him. Jim made it a point to fit his hand over that mark on her cheek and reassure her that it could just as easily be tenderness that put it there. She’d tried to do the same for him once but… well, it hadn’t gone well. He’d panicked as soon as he’d felt her hands on his neck. He’d asked her to never do that again, and she’d always respected his boundaries. He loved her for that.

“I’ll be  _ alright _ Sarah. I promise. I’m turning over a new leaf. No more looking for trouble.”

Sarah gave an inelegant snort. “Sure you won’t”

“I won’t!”

Shrewd brown eyes looked him up and down. A sigh escaped her lips and she shook her head. “Who am I kidding? More often than not the trouble finds you. You’re a frigging trouble  _ magnet _ ! You don’t  _ need _ to go looking. You just have to wait for it!”

“True.” Jim kissed her forehead. “But I promise I won’t go looking for it. Last night’s bar fight was the last time. Scout’s honor.”

“You weren’t a scout.”

“So? I could totally have been one if I wanted. I definitely have the survival skills. Either way, you know what I mean. I’m done pissing people off just to get in fights… Besides, you were right.”

“About?”

Jim softened. “... physical pain is better than the other kind… but it doesn’t stay forever, it isn’t good for my health… and it doesn’t make the other kind go away… It’s time I started accepting that.” 

“Yes you should.” Sarah agreed. Glancing down at the collar he still had in his free hand, she bit her lip. “We agreed to be proud of our marks. It’s a work in progress, I know it is… Jim, everybody here knows about your mark. They’ve all been complete and utter assholes about it. You’re going somewhere new… If you want to start fresh...But if the collar makes you panic, you don’t have to wear it! You don’t have to…!” 

“Sarah.  _ Sarah _ ! It’ll be fine. I don’t panic when I wear a scarf in the winter, or a turtleneck shirt. It’ll be fine. And I want to.” Jim put the collar back in her hands. “Help me put it on?” 

She giggled and slipped behind him.

Her hands slid over his shoulders with the broad leather band. He shivered as the cool leather pressed against his throat, the colder metal buckle brushing against his nape. Sarah felt the movement and paused. 

“You good?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Buckle me up, I got a shuttle to catch in a couple hours.” 

The leather band tightened around his throat, and he heard the slight clink as she fastened it in place. For one second, he felt a flare of panic. Then her hands were off of him and the collar settled easily into place. And he was fine. He relaxed, spinning around to give Sarah a hug. 

“Thanks sis.”

She squeezed him tight. “You’re welcome. It fit ok?”

“Like a glove... Should I be concerned you know what size collar I need? Or the fact that you apparently already had a collar on hand for me? I only just decided I was going an hour ago!”

She smirked. “Why  _ Jim _ , you know I love you! And as for the collar… Well, that’s for me to know and you to wonder about.” She spun him around and gave his ass a swat. “Now get moving cadet! You’ve got a shuttle to catch!”

* * *

 

 

It was amazing, the difference the collar made.

Before, he could feel the gazes of others on his mark. Heavy, judgemental. Demeaning. They saw his mark and immediately assumed that he was a victim. Or that he had a kink and didn’t particularly care who he jumped into bed with. 

Which,  _ rude _ !

Jim had no problem trying things in bed, but  _ really _ ? Jim wasn’t  _ stupid _ , and he liked his foreplay besides. So, he would  _ definitely _ have touched their skin beforehand. And  _ no way _ he would let someone collar him up or tie him down, or restrain him  _ at all _ , on the first date! That was just  _ asking _ to get hurt! 

Yeah, not happening! 

But they didn’t know anything about him, so they made snap judgements. And, on some level, he couldn’t blame them. Why else would his first touch be an attempt to strangle him?

But now? Now it was different. It was like he had a layer of armor around his neck, protecting him from their nasty glares. 

Across the shuttle aisle, the cadet from the bar eyed him critically. She’d seen his mark the night before, but she didn’t look at him as if he were a victim, or a deviant. It was… nice. Different, but nice. Really, she seemed more amused that he was  _ here _ than anything else. 

Her buddies from the night before were  _ less _ happy to see him. They looked about as bad as he felt, and frankly that made him feel a hell of a lot better. He knew how he looked, and it was better than  _ they _ did. He suppressed a laugh and settled into his seat. 

This was going to be a  _ fun _ flight.

Someone started a ruckus in the back of the shuttle. Jim craned his neck along with the rest of the cadets and recruits. The shuttle attendant was ousting a tall brunette man from the shuttle’s onboard bathroom. 

He was irritable and argumentative. The way he was dressed in loose fitting civilian clothes instead of the cadet reds said that he was a new recruit. The way he was going on, it sounded like he was hiding from a fear of flying until the attendant ferreted him out. The brunette was a piece of work. Or, well, worked up. He was going on at a mile a minute with no signs of slowing down. Much less  _ stopping _ ! 

“Sir, for your own safety, sit  _ down _ . Or I will  _ make _ you sit down!”

Jim had to hand it to the attendant. She might have been way shorter than the brunette, but she brooked no shit. Working a shuttle that mostly ferried cadets, young recruits, and shipyard workers, she’d probably had loads of practice. 

Jim studied the man. He hadn’t shaved recently. His clothes were dull colored, and well broken in. Older knockabouts that had seen better days. His hair was unkempt, and he was sporting some pretty impressive stubble. The man’s entire appearance gave the impression of being run down at the heel. 

Someone was down. 

Not  _ out _ , but  _ down _ for sure. It’d been a rough few days at the least. Though given the overall worn impression of the man, Jim was willing to bet it had been a lot longer than that. Something, or maybe  _ someone _ , had been  _ grinding _ the brunette down for some time. Jim was sure of it.

The brunette looked like he wanted to argue with the attendant some more. But then he seemed to reconsider. He gave a quick, tiny little nod, then a second stronger one. A dismissive wave and a muttered ‘fine’, and he was settling into the seat next to Jim. He aggressively jerked the safety restraints over his shoulders. Hazel eyes settled on Jim, and the man leaned forward. 

“I may throw up on you.” He growled in warning.

“I think these things are pretty safe.” Jim hedged.

“Don’t pander to me kid.” The man grouched, sliding easily into a description of all the things that could go wrong in space. Most of it medically based. The way he talked, Jim got the impression he was a doctor. 

The entire rant concluded with “...space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence.”

Now Jim was curious. Why go if he was so terrified of it? He pressed a little. “Well I hate to break this to you, but Star Fleet operates in space.”

“Yeah, well, got nowhere else to go.” The man answered, fishing a flask out of a pocket. “The wife took the whole damn  _ planet _ in the divorce. All I got left is my  _ bones _ .” He took a swig and offered it to Jim. 

Jim took the flask. He couldn’t help but notice the man’s palm. Pale pink, with a distinct edge. A soulmark. It covered the entirety of his palm, and the insides of his fingers and thumb. 

Most people had a ‘hand’ mark. Usually from a handshake. 

This wasn’t quite one of those though, he didn’t have marks curling around to the back of his hand to denote fingers and a thumb. This looked more as if he was going to just set his hand on a broad expanse of his soulmate’s skin. Maybe to pat a shoulder, or to squeeze an arm in reassurance. Jim had seen a few of those kind of handmarks. He just hoped this poor schmuck’s soulmate didn’t have a corresponding print on their ass the way one of his high school acquaintances did. That...well, the day that print had activated right in front of him at a party had been  _ highly _ entertaining. 

“Jim Kirk.” He offered, sipping from the flask and handing it back.

“McCoy. Leonard McCoy.”

The shuttle shivered and rose smoothly into the air. 

Leonard cursed softly under his breath, hurriedly shoving his flask back into his pocket and gripping the safety straps on his shoulders. The urge to reassure him was almost overwhelming. Jim wanted to sit on his hands to be sure he didn’t reach out and grab the guy. Somehow, after having just divorced, Jim didn’t think he’d appreciate some random stranger grabbing his hand and telling him it would be alright. He knew that  _ he _ wouldn’t, if he were in Leonard’s shoes.

The shuttle shook a little and leveled out.

Leonard’s breathing sped up.

Shit, that wasn’t a good sign. Jim turned in his seat. “So, ‘Bones’, where’re you from?”

Leonard side eyed him, still ramrod stiff in his seat. “Bones?”

“Well, you said that was all you had left. Plus: you talk like a doctor, and you kinda sound like you might be a bit southern. They used to call doctors ‘old sawbones’.” Jim shrugged. “It fits. Or, well, I thought it did. Don’t you?”

Irritation flickered across his face, and for a split second Jim thought he’d fucked up. 

Leonard huffed in amusement. “ ‘t’s as good a name ‘s any I suppose. An’ you’re right, I am a doctor.” 

Jim waited, but Leonard didn’t offer anything further. “...so?”

“You just aren’t gonna let it go, are ya?”

Jim shrugged. “Well, you can talk to me… or you can spend the entire eight hour flight thinking about how you’ve been strapped inside a flying death machine.” Leonard paled a little, and Jim shrugged. “It’s your choice. Personally, I figured you’d prefer to talk to me. And I figured you sure as hell wouldn’t want to talk about your ex, so… Where are you from?”

“...Georgia. I was born an’ bred in Georgia. You?”

“Riverside, Iowa.”

“Least you didn’t have to commute.”

Jim laughed. “True! I’d have been happy to though. I’m sort of a black sheep in Riverside. Everybody knows everybody, and most of the people are kind of assholes about it. They knew my folks, and didn’t exactly approve of how I turned out.”

“Your folks decide StarFleet would be the best way to straighten you out?”

Jim snorted. “My Dad died when I was a baby, I never knew him. The way people talk, my life would’ve been a hell of a lot different if he’d lived. My mom… ha, she couldn’t give even half a shit one way or another. StarFleet was my idea. I’d sort of been in limbo for a while, and…” He shrugged. “It was time for a change… How about you? Did you like Georgia?”

His face softened. “Yeah. I did. Coulda spent the rest of my life there, truth be told. Now that my ex ‘as chased me out…” He heaved a sigh. “At least my little girl gets to stay there. I’d hate to uproot her.”

“You’ve got a little girl? What’s her name?”

“Joanna.” 

Jim smiled. Leonard loved his daughter, Jim could tell just by the way he said her name. And, like a lot of parents Jim had met, Leonard was only too happy to talk about her. Her likes, her dislikes, her grades in school, her favorite toys, her favorite color. Anything and everything was fair game. 

Leonard’s face lit up while he talked about her. For him, nothing else mattered. He forgot about the flying death machine, about his rotten ex, everything. It just all fell away for him.

By and large, it was one of the best shuttle flights Jim had ever been on.

* * *

 

 

Life at StarFleet was... different.

_ Good _ , but different. The classes were enough to challenge him, which was a switch. He couldn’t remember a time when that had happened before. He kind of liked it! The instructors were tough and engaging… You know what, scratch that, Jim fucking  _ loved _ this!

The other cadets were pretty cool too. 

Not a one of them had made a comment about his mark. To be fair, none of them had seen his mark. He hadn’t taken the collar off except to sleep or shower the entire time he’d been there. But it was always back on before he left the room to rejoin the rest of the world. 

And no one had questioned the collar. 

He wasn’t the only one in San Francisco that wore a collar. He got a few odd looks, and a couple choice comments from ignorant individuals. But on the whole, things were good. He had even made a few friends!

Bones being the most notable.

Straight off the shuttle, the doctor had been assigned to Jim as a roommate. Given the little conversation Jim had seen go down between the quartermaster and the shuttle attendant, he was willing to bet she’d had something to do with it. Not that he was complaining. 

He  _ liked _ Leonard. 

The doctor’s default setting seemed to vacillate between grumpy and sarcastic. Or more often some fusion of the two. That aside, after almost an entire semester of living with the man, Jim had peeled back the layers. Underneath the grumpiness and sarcasm, Leonard had a heart. He was kind, and genuinely cared about the people around him. He had a real  _ passion _ to help his fellow man. Something Jim hadn’t seen in a long time. 

The world could use more of that.

He was smart,  _ god _ was he  _ smart _ , though most people wouldn’t think it to look at him. And the southern colloquialisms did nothing but enhance that perception. But he really  _ was _ ! No way he could’ve finished medical school and established his own practice at such a young age if he hadn’t been. 

What really struck Jim though, was the gentleness. 

Len could be as aggressive and in your face as the next man, but he could turn right around and doctor up the bloody nose he’d just given you. And probably grumble and fuss about whatever you’d said or done to earn said bloody nose in the first place. He could soothe a crying child with a hug and a few soft words. He was the gentlest man Jim had ever met.

Which was the only reason Jim wasn’t panicking.

...then again, he might do that anyway.

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t supposed to happen.

He’d been dreaming. 

It hadn’t been a nice dream. 

 

_ The scent was always the first thing that struck him. The smell of rot, and decay. The smell of death, if he was being honest. It wasn’t unusual here, it was everywhere. The fact that there was a dead arboreal mammal about a foot from his nose probably contributed to the stronger than normal scent. _

_ The pain was allconsuming.  _

_ It shot up his spine, burned through his system. Jim screamed at the top of his lungs. It never made it through the gag between his teeth. Above and behind him, the men laughed quietly. One of them reached down and crammed the wadded up rag further into his mouth. They’d figured out fast that he was a screamer. Now they always shoved something in his mouth.  _

_ If they got caught they were just as dead as he was.  _

_ Jim dug his fingers into the dessicated dirt. Another scream ripped from his throat, and someone pushed his face into the ground. Tears and snot were running down his face. The dirt was sticking to it. He was a filthy mess, which he knew from experience would only add insult to injury.  _

_ Rough hands were grabbing him.  _

_ Pushing. Pulling. Scratching. Bruising. _

“Jim.”

_ It hurt! It hurt so much please god make it stop! He’d do  _ anything _ not to have to do this anymore. Please no  _ please make it STOP!

“JIM!”

Jim came awake with a shriek. His hands scrabbled at the clinging blankets. There were hands on him. Someone was grabbing his shoulders. Their fingers were getting caught in his t-shirt. He couldn’t do this! Not again! No, please! Oh god get off! Get off! GET OFF!

“ _ JIM _ !”

A hand clamped down on the back of Jim’s neck. His muscles locked up. Heat bloomed where skin met skin, and he went lax and tensed again by turn. He wanted to go boneless under that touch. But the nightmare was playing on loop in his head. He wanted to bolt. He couldn’t stop it! The smell of a dying world was fresh in his nose. 

“Oh hell… Jim. Jim, listen to me, you’re having a panic attack. You’re safe. You’re in our dorm at StarFleet academy. San Francisco. No one’s gonna hurt you Jimmy. You’re alright. You’re safe. Come on. Come on back…”

Panic attack?

His heart was  _ pounding _ , fast and hard. His ears were ringing. He couldn’t move! His breathing was moving faster than a thoroughbred at the Kentucky Derby and he was getting lightheaded. But at the same time, he could barely breathe at all. There were ten ton weighs on his chest… 

He knew these feelings. It was hard to focus, it felt like he was watching it happen to someone else. But he’d experienced this before. All that was missing was…

...right, there was the nausea. 

“Jim, you need to breathe deeper. Ok? I know you’re scared, an’ I know your chest is probably feeling bad. That’s what happens when a person hyperventilates. If you’re getting pins and needles in your hands or legs, that’s normal too. Ok? You’re  _ not _ hurt. You’re not  _ dying _ . It’s just a panic attack, and it’s gonna end. This attack ain’t gonna last forever, and getting your breathing under control’ll help. So I need you to breathe, ok? Can you do that for me?”

He’d try.

It took forever.

Or at least it felt that way. Slowly, glacially slow really, the nightmare loop moved into the background. The tremors calmed, but didn’t entirely go away. 

His surroundings gradually came back into focus around him. The cool of his air conditioned dorm room. The soft hush of the unit. The smell of the detergent they used on the bedding. 

Len. His smell, his warmth, the weight of his hands. 

Jim zeroed in on that. On the living breathing weight of his friend.

Neurons started firing again. 

He opened his eyes. When had they closed? 

Had they ever been open?

Leonard was on the bed with him. He was kneeling, one knee in between Jim’s legs. In any other situation that position would’ve given anyone watching the wrong impression. Would’ve probably scared the  _ shit _ out of Jim. Len’s right hand was curled over the back of Jim’s neck, perfectly situated over the mark there. His forehead was pressed against Jim’s, and his other hand was on the younger man’s shoulder. The doctor’s entire body was curled protectively over him. Both a shield and a support. 

Jim wondered if those hazel eyes had left him since this whole thing had started.

“You back with me?” Bones whispered.

Jim gave a tiny nod. What more could he say? Len had just walked in on Jim reliving the traumas of one of the worst time periods of his life. In fact, he’d probably come  _ running _ on the double because more than likely Jim had been  _ screaming _ like a banshee. Jim considered himself lucky he’d managed to go a whole semester without a screaming nightmare. This one was long overdue. 

Leonard was bound to have questions. 

And he was going to get angry when Jim couldn’t… no,  _ wouldn’t _ answer them. He was going to lose him. Leonard H. McCoy had become Jim’s best friend over the course of a single semester, and Jim was going to lose him over the course of one night. 

Because once the nightmares started up, they stayed for weeks at a time! No one could be expected to put up with  _ that _ ! 

Jim was going to be alone again. He could just see it, StarFleet would keep assigning him roommates and they’d leave when they couldn’t take it anymore. And sooner or later they’d want to know why his roommates kept  _ leaving _ . And then they’d throw him out when he couldn’t tell them…

“Jim!  _ Jim _ ! Calm down, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“Shit. That was out loud.”

“Yeah, it was. Looks like your brain to mouth filter’s glitching.”

“That... that a tech-technical term B-bones?”

“Smartass. Now take a deep breath. We’ll take this one step at a time alright?” Jim forced himself to nod. That seemed to pacify Leonard, but not necessarily satisfy him. “Alright. Now, what do you need me to do? You came straight out of one  _ hell _ of a nightmare and went into a panic attack almost immediately after. That ain’t easy on anybody. So tell me how to help you. We’ll talk after.”

“Um… I don’t know…”

The doctor didn’t seem frustrated by the unhelpful reply. His thumb rubbed at the side of Jim’s neck, in the hollow a little behind his ear. For some reason the touch helped. It settled him, gave him something to focus on. Usually someone touching his neck would set him right off again. Jim didn’t question it. Now was not the time to look a gift horse in the mouth.

A shiver ran through his frame. Jim had sweated through his clothes at some point. And the bedding. The cool air of the room was starting to feel downright chilly.

“You cold?”

“...yeah.”

“Ok. We’ll start there then.” Leonard got off the bed and went to the dresser. Jim watched him open the top drawer, glance in, close it again when it didn’t have what he wanted and opened the next. He fished a t-shirt out of that drawer, then went another drawer down to fish out a pair of gray sweats. “You got a hoodie? Or a zip up maybe? Somethin’ you can throw on over it if the tee ain’t enough?” 

Jim mutely pointed at the closet.

The doctor picked a darkly colored pullover hoodie. Jim didn’t wear it often because it was really oversized and he only pulled it out when he felt like shit. There’d been a lot of days like that. The hoodie was well broken in. Maybe that was why the doctor picked it. He’d never seen Jim wear it. Jim hadn’t had a reason to wear it here. 

Yet.

That was looking to change.

Leonard came back to the bed and gave him the clothes. “Come on, up you get. You feeling dizzy? Or lightheaded at all?” 

Jim shook his head. Len had had him deep breathing for god only knew how long to soothe the panic attack. The dizziness was long gone.

“Good.” The doctor hauled him to his feet and gently pushed him toward the bathroom. “Go on an’ get changed. Run in an’ out of the shower if ya have a need to. I’ll strip the bed. Holler if you need something, and come on out to the living room when you’re ready.”

* * *

 

 

Leonard waited in the living room. 

He’d stripped the bed down in record time, and promptly discovered that Jim didn’t seem to have a second set of bedding. He grabbed one of his own spare sets. It didn’t matter if he didn’t get them back, he’d gotten them second hand anyway. At least that way Jim wouldn’t feel bad about using them. Not that he had any reason to feel bad, but Jim worried about some of the oddest things. After everything that had happened, hopefully he could side step and spare Jim at least this little bit of stress.

Memories of long nights as an intern, and later during his residency swam through his head. His superiors had had no problems putting him through his paces by giving him the least desirable jobs. Stripping the beds and replacing the bedding had been some of the... _ nicer _ tasks. Also one of the most  _ plentiful _ jobs.

Len had the process down to an  _ art _ .

Bedding squared away, he’d headed for the kitchen. 

Jim wasn’t exactly an open book when it came to his past, but his present was easy enough. And one thing Len had noticed was that when Jim was stressed or upset, he didn’t eat. 

It wasn’t that he  _ deliberately _ deprived himself. 

Of that, Leonard was sure. It was like he forgot that food was even an  _ option _ . And the longer he went  _ without _ food, the more his mood soured. When he finally ate again, it was like someone flipped a switch. 

Instant attitude adjustment. 

A nightmare immediately followed by a panic attack was definitely a stressor. Hopefully if he had some sort of light snack on hand he could head that off at the pass. Leonard eyed the contents of their fridge. Jim didn’t do much by way of cooking, so most of the stuff in the fridge was Len’s healthy food. And Jim never touched Len’s food. The doctor had appreciated the respect of his boundaries at first, but given the whole not eating thing, Len was beginning to wonder if maybe there was a little bit  _ more _ to it. But that was a question for another day.

The shower turned off.

Time’s up. 

He grabbed the bowl of blueberries, and snagged a bag of homemade trail mix from the cupboard. The bag slipped through his fingers and hit the floor. Len took a deep breath and carefully put the bowl on the counter. The way his hands were shaking, he was likely to dump the berries on the floor after the bag of trail mix!

He leaned against the counter and let his head hang.

Dear lord, his hands were  _ shaking _ ! He’d done more high risk surgeries than he could count, and his hands had never even twitched. Now his palm was black with a freshly activated soulmark, and he  _ couldn’t stop shaking _ ! 

What was he going to do? 

After everything that had happened with Jocelyne… well, he’d all but given up on finding his soulmate. She’d burned him so badly… No, he couldn’t do it again. When she’d taken his daughter, that had been the final straw that broke the camel’s back. He’d hopped a shuttle to StarFleet, made friends with Jim, and had only looked back so far as he had to to see his daughter. That was it.

The past few months at StarFleet had been some of the best he’d had in a long time.

He’d thought it had been the change of scenery. After living in the toxic atmosphere that Jocelyne had made of his hometown,  _ any _ change would’ve seemed like heaven! But it had  _ stayed _ good! He’d been downright  _ happy _ for the first time in years. Missing Joanna had been the only dark cloud in his blue sky.

Now he wondered how much of that blue sky had been because of  _ Jim _ .

His soulmate. His frigging  _ soulmate _ . He’d been living with his soulmate for  _ months _ and he hadn’t even  _ realized _ ! And now he didn’t know what to do. Jim had just had the mother of all panic attacks, he wasn’t ready to talk this over. Not tonight.  _ Leonard _ sure as hell wasn’t ready! He needed  _ time _ to wrap his head around all of this! 

And Jim  _ needed _ him to get his shit together.

The bathroom door opened, and Leonard heard Jim shuffle slowly into the living room. Well, if that wasn’t a sign that Jim wasn’t up to snuff, he didn’t know what was. Jim didn’t shuffle. Jim bounced like a damn rubber ball. He pranced like a show pony that was feeling his oats. It was the way he was supposed to be. Not shuffling around like a dog that’d been whipped. 

His hands stopped shaking.

It didn’t matter. None of it did. Not tonight. He and Jim could talk, and could wrap their heads around all of this in the morning. Right now, the only thing that mattered was that his soulmate was  _ hurting _ . And that Len needed to fix it. He was a doctor, it was his job to  _ help _ people when they were hurting. This wasn’t a physical kind of hurt, but he’d do his damndest to fix it anyway. 

Anything and  _ everything _ else could wait. 

He snatched the trail mix up off the floor. Mix under his arm and the bowl of berries and a glass of water in hand, he trotted out into the living room. Jim was pacing anxiously by the window, rubbing at the back of his neck. Even if he was a little hazy on what had gone down during the panic attack, he  _ had _ been only half awake when it had started, he  _ still _ had to know what had happened. Their marks would both be tender for days to come. Surely Jim could feel the dull ache around the back of his neck. Len could  _ definitely _ feel it on the palm of his hand. There was no way Jim didn’t know.

And he was panicking.

Jim saw his reflection in the window and whirled. He looked like he was ready to bolt. Len held up the bowl, snack mix and the glass of water in the other hand. 

“I ain’t gonna bite you Jim.”

Jim tried to give him his usual flirty smile. “Oh I don’t know, I kind of like it when my partner gets a little territorial...

That smile didn’t even come close to usual. Matter of fact if he’d aimed that at someone else Len would’ve pulled out his tricorder and asked him if he was feeling alright. Because that was just  _ pathetic _ . It must’ve showed on his face.

Jim’s smile crumbled like soggy cardboard. “Bones…

“Jim.” 

Jim’s mouth shut with a click. Damn, there was more there than Len had realized. Len had his work cut out for him. He sighed and set his armload down on the coffee table. 

“Jim. I’m not opposed to playing ‘doctor’ with you, if that’s what you want… But I can tell you, it  _ ain’t _ happening tonight.  _ You _ ain’t ready. You look like you’re ready to bolt if I even  _ breathe _ in your general direction!” That earned him a tiny but genuine smile. “And I know for  _ damn _ sure that  _ I’m _ not ready after that divorce I had before coming here. It’s not even been a year yet! So here’s what’s gonna happen. Tonight, we’re gonna get you through this. Tomorrow we’ll move slow, and we’ll take everything else as it comes. Ok?”

“...Ok… Um…” Jim shifted his weight, as if he wanted to go back to pacing. “So… what do we do?”

“You ok staying in the apartment? Or do you need some fresh air?”

“... can I open a window?”

“If that’s what’ll help. And you don’t need to ask me Jim, it’s your apartment too. The only reason I grouched at you last time was because you left it open when you went to class and it rained. I don’t have a problem with you opening windows.”

Jim threw the windows open and put his face close to the screen. The cool breeze from outside whispered through the apartment. 

Len silently thanked their lucky stars that he and Jim had managed to score a corner apartment with plenty of extra windows. He settled on the couch and patiently waited. 

Jim visibly pulled himself together. “What now doc? You stick me with a hypo, and this all goes away?”

Somehow, he doubted it would be that simple. Leonard arched an eyebrow. “Why? There something wrong we can’t fix naturally?”

“Naturally huh?” Jim wandered closer to lean on the back of the couch. Blue eyes, eyes that had always caught and held Leonard’s attention, raked over the table. He gestured at the water and snacks. “Doctor McCoy’s cure for a panic attack hangover, huh?”

“Somethin’ like that. It varies depending on who you’re feeding it to.” Leonard grabbed up the trail mix bag and offered it to Jim. “Being your roommate definitely made it easier to guess what you would and wouldn’t eat. All of that’s for you by the way, I’m not hungry.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

Jim froze, hand on the bag. He took a deep breath and very carefully took the bag from him. “I… have a weird relationship with food. Join me?”

_ Anything _ , if it would help his soulmate calm down. Jim was still far too keyed up. Leonard took a small handful of the blueberries to nibble on. “Fine.” 

It was enough to satisfy Jim.

A tense silence settled between the two of them. Jim stayed behind the couch, as if he needed a physical barrier between them if he was going to let Leonard get that close. Jesus, who had hurt this kid? Whoever it was, he wanted to beat the shit out of him! Jim was an amazing person, and he didn’t deserve  _ whatever _ that asshole had done to make him this leery of his own  _ soulmate _ ! 

“Where’s your book?”

Jim shook his head. “Too keyed up to sit down and read.”

“Too keyed up to listen?”

Jim blinked. “Are you… are you offering to read to me?” He softened a little at Leonard’s confirming smile. The blonde trotted across the room to a small bookshelf that housed part of Jim’s antique paper book collection. Len wasn’t entirely sure when or how Jim had come to have them, but they were important to him. And they were calming, in a way that very few other things seemed to be for Jim. Jim picked one, seemingly at random, and brought it back to the couch.

“I’m… not sure I could keep up with a chapter story right now. But short stories should be ok… I mean, if that’s ok with you.” 

“It’s fine Jim. What ya got?” A book was passed into his hands, and he couldn’t help but smile. “ _ The Story-Teller _ , huh? Alright then. Let’s see… ‘The Three Ravens’. There was once a kingdom…”

He read story after story.

Tales of princes turned into ravens. Of hedgehogs that rode giant roosters, a derelict soldier who captured death in a sack, and a child born lucky. Somewhere along the way, Jim drifted around to sit on the other end of the couch. As story after story left Leonard’s lips, the tension slowly melted out of Jim’s frame. His eyes drifted closed, and his body relaxed into an easy sprawl. 

“...standing in front of her was a lion. A great white lion with a mane like snow...but when he spoke again, his voice was so soothing that all Anya’s fears ebbed away…”

The snacks dwindled, and the water disappeared. 

“And the lion explained that he’d come from her thoughts. ‘Is there no one in the whole wide world to take pity on me, you thought.’ Well, there is…” Leonard trailed off, smiling a little. Jim had fallen asleep. His head lolled back against the armrest, an empty bowl perched on his belly. He’d eaten everything Len had put in front of him.

The doctor marked his place. 

He quietly gathered up the empty bowl and the trash and put it all in the kitchen. An afghan that had appeared out of the blue one day now served to keep it’s  _ probable _ , but never  _ confirmed _ , owner warm. Len carefully spread the soft blue blanket over his soulmate and tucked it in. Ordinarily he’d close the windows, but after the way Jim had needed the fresh air he wasn’t about to close them. Looked like he was going to be stocking up on blankets if the windows were going to be open all the time.

He didn’t mind a bit.

Len ran his fingers through blonde strands. His sleeping soulmate leaned into the touch. He slid his hand down and under. Fitted it right over that coal black mark on the back his neck. Warmth bloomed under his hand. It flooded his palm. Coursed up his arm and radiated through the rest of him before nestling under his breastbone like his own personal sun. It was beautiful. It was everything his parents had described when he was a kid, and  _ more _ . 

Len forced himself to take his hand away and go back to his end of the couch. He settled down and pulled Jim’s feet into his lap. The idiot was barefoot. But, of course he was. When Jim was home, the shoes were off. That was just how it was. Somehow he didn’t think it was ever going to change. One hand massaging at an ankle bone, he picked up the book with the other and found his place. 

“Is there no one in the whole wide world to take pity on me, you thought.” He glanced at his sleeping soulmate, and his lips curled up. “Well, there is… And I ain’t never letting you go Jim. I’m gonna make this work, no matter how far I gotta bend over backwards to make it happen.”

* * *

 

 

Jim woke to sunlight on his face.

He sat up with a groan, and pushed the afgan he’d picked up at a flea market away. He hadn’t been looking for anything in particular, but he’d liked the pretty blue color, and the design woven through the strands.

Bones was nowhere to be seen.

Jim bit his lip. He hadn’t expected last night. Hadn’t expected to activate with his  _ roommate _ of all people. After a nightmare about the Tarsus disaster? Yeah, no. He’d never seen it coming. 

The back of his neck was tender.

He gingerly ran his fingers over it. That was something else he’d never seen coming. It’d never occurred to him that he might have more than one. He’d never bothered to study the hand print on the back of his neck. He’d always just assumed that his soulmate would be strangling him from an angle, and using both hands. And then Leonard H. McCoy had happened, and his whole world had been turned over on its head. He’d done some mirror gymnastics in the bathroom the night before, and had been astonished to realize that both of the hand prints on his throat were  _ right _ hand marks. 

He had  _ two _ soulmates.

Triads were pretty friggin rare. Jim wasn’t sure when the last one had existed, but he knew it had been forever and a day. And now to find out that he  _ was _ one… Well, it was a lot to take in. Especially seeing as how his other soulmate was a potentially violent individual who might strangle the life out of him…

He and Leonard had a lot to talk about.

* * *

 

  
  


Leonard watched Jim finger his mark.

“Done panicking yet? Or have you jumped straight to second guessing?”

Jim gave him a sheepish look. Then, very slowly and cautiously, he tilted his head back and to the side. 

There was a splash of pink across Jim’s throat.

Len knew his eyebrows were probably up in his hairline, and he didn’t much care. He crossed the room and seated himself on the edge of the couch. His eyes were fixed on that mark. It was a perfect hand print across the front of Jim’s throat. The tips of the fingers and thumb both overlapped with the coal black of his own mark. He hadn’t noticed the night before. He’d been too worried about Jim’s well being, too fixated on the panic attack, the nightmare, and his own mark on the  _ back _ of Jim’s neck. Jim had kept his head tucked too.

Len lightly touched his fingers to the mark.

Jim shivered, his eyes scrunching shut. Len immediately felt like an idiot. Jim wore that leather collar for a reason. Of course he wouldn’t be comfortable with this. A tingle raced through his palm, and he stared in shock as his mark pinked to match Jim’s unactivated mark.

“...what in the hell?!”

Jim flinched away. “I’m sorry! I didn’t even know I had two until last night! I thought it was all the same mark going all the way around. I didn’t…” 

“Jim! Jim! Take it easy, breathe. I’m not mad, I’m confused. When I touched the mark, mine went pink for a second.” Leonard held up his hand, which had gone back to the black he’d sported since touching Jim for the first time. He shook his head, the answer almost unbelievable. “Jim, triads are always soulmated three ways. You don’t got two people that are soulmated to the same person, but not to each other. That’s not how it works. You didn’t know you had two soulmates? Neither did I. But if I’m reading this right, I’m gonna touch you both with the same hand.”

“So, they’re yours too?” 

“Have to be. It doesn’t work any other way.” He shook his head. “And I’d feel real bad about slapping them upside the head, but if their first touch is to strangle you I figure it’s the least of what they got coming.”

Tears welling in his eyes, Jim gave a wet little laugh.

Holding his crying soulmate in his arms, Len quietly rubbed his fingers over Jim’s mark. He ran a hand up and down the younger man’s back. And he planned out the ass reaming he was going to throw at their third soulmate for trying to strangle Jim.

After all, it paid to be prepared.

* * *

 

 


	3. The Strap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have fiddled and fiddled and fiddled with this damn chapter. And I have reached the point where I just NEED TO STOP. So I'm stopping. Because at this point I doubt I can improve it and if I keep going it's just going to detract from the piece. So, make of it what you will. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> See you all next chapter!
> 
> (Also if anyone out there catches any problems with my french PLEASE say something, I am NOT a native speaker and am only human besides. I make mistakes. Just be aware that I was aiming for canadian french seeing as how Amanda is from Canada)

* * *

Vulcans did not have soulmarks.

Thus, the argument could be made that Spock was not a true vulcan. Or so his peers had always claimed. Spock might have lent more credence to their claim if his pure blooded vulcan father had _not_ had one. 

Vulcans  _ could _ have marks. And they  _ did _ . But  _ only _ if their soulmate, their T’hy’la, was of a race which were born with soulmarks. Vulcans did not physically mark their mates. Vulcan soulmates were identified psychically. Yet another of Spock’s failings. But at least it was a failing his father and a handful of others shared.

His father had been born with a spring green streak along his cheekbone. Many had hoped that it was simply a birthmark. That hope had been destroyed when Sarek had returned from earth, his mark coal black, and a human with a matching black mark on the second knuckle of her right hand. T’Pau hadn’t been sure which disturbed her more, the fact that Sarek had a human T’hy’la, or that said human had known enough about vulcan culture to offer the affectionate brush of knuckles along Sarek’s cheek in liue of a human kiss. But either way, no one could deny the proof of that black mark.

Sarek had a human soulmate.

His son had  _ two _ .

Spock knew his soulmates were human. Or, at least one of them was human, though there was a strong chance the other was as well. There were a few races that could leave marks like his. It coated his whole palm, and the insides of his fingers and thumb. A shade of pale spring green that stood out starkly from his already very pale skin. The other was a perfect imprint of a right hand on his right side. 

Covering his heart. 

His mother had always found the placement of that mark poetic.

For his part, Spock could not fathom the manner in which such marks would ever be placed. No Vulcan would use their entire hand for a first touch. So why was his entire palm marked? He couldn’t imagine a reason why he would do so, unless indulging the human urge for a handshake, but that would’ve resulted in marks wrapping around the back of his hand; and there were none.. And the mark on his side? Impossible. It would require the removal of clothing, and he would need a  _ very _ good reason to disrobe in front of a stranger. 

There was no hiding the mark on his hand from his peers. But the mark on his side remained a carefully guarded secret. But he wondered about them. He wondered, about the missing pieces of his soul. He hoped they were well.

He wondered if they thought about him too.

* * *

 

 

The first time his mark flickered, his heart stopped in his side.

The fifteen year old vulcan stared at his palm in confusion as the blood seemed to drain from his hand, the mark going pale. His whole hand felt cool to the touch, several degrees lower than the rest of his body. Dread settled heavy in his gut, though he couldn’t pinpoint a logical reason for it. Nor did he pay it any mind. Dread was illogical, and would not help him asses what was happening with his mark. So he ignored the emotion. His mother was in the kitchen. She was human. She would likely know more about human marks than his father would.

He sought her out.

As he entered, he could hear her humming an old terran tune. He didn’t know the name of it, but he knew the melody as well as he knew the songs he played on his lute. Maybe better. It had a swinging sort of melody, neither flowing or bouncing, but somewhere in between the two. 

Amanda was dressed in a flowing yellow gown, not at all vulcan in style. It was too loose and airy. Female vulcans wore clothing that pulled close to the skin. Amanda wore such when she left the house, but her clothes were more flamboyantly colored and patterned than her vulcan counterparts. Still not as bright and atrocious as _humanly_ possible, but atrocious enough . Spock was 97.3% certain that that was her own form of rebellion. Here in her own home however, she did as she pleased. She wore loose,   _ vibrant _ clothing, and let her curly brown hair hang free. She sang, and she danced. And she gifted smiles and hugs as she pleased, despite the illogicality of such actions.

“Spock? Is everything alright?”

She was also incredibly perceptive. 

Mutely, he held out his hand to her. It was still pale, the mark seeming almost bloodless. A look his mother’s face mimicked almost effortlessly. The color drained from her face, and she was across the room in an instant. She cupped his hand in her own. 

Normally she was not so inconsiderate.

Her terror flooded through him, her thoughts following a second later.  _ His hand is icy! It shouldn’t ever be that cold!  _ _ S'il vous plaît dieu non _ _ , the mark’s too pale. This is bad.  _ _ S'il vous plait, dieu pas mon bébé _ _ … _

He tore his hand from her grasp, panting for breath after the sudden onslaught of negative emotion. “... Komeck? What…?”

“Does it hurt?”

“I do not understand.”

“Your mark!  _ Does it hurt _ ?!  Réponds-moi! ”

She had never raised her voice to him before. She had never had too. And switching languages? It was very rare that she spoke in a language she did not intend, she had too much self control. A side effect of being soul mated to a vulcan like Sarek, and living amongst his people for decades. Even had he not felt her terror for him,  _ that _ alone would have been enough to tell him something was very  _ very _ wrong. The dread pushed itself to the forefront again. 

“It does not. Mother, what is happening?”

Tears slid down her cheeks as her hands came up to cover her mouth. “Oh thank you God…” she whispered, her shoulders going slack with relief. 

“Wife? What has happened?” Sarek slipped through the kitchen door. He had been in his study so far as Spock knew. It was impossible to say whether he had been attracted to the kitchen by his wife’s yell or the terror that was surely passed to him through their marital bond. It didn’t matter, the result was the same. He passed Spock and made a beeline for his wife, intent on soothing her distress.

"Spock's mark is paling." The immediate threat past, she visibly composed herself. “A mark changing color without your soulmate present is a very bad sign Spock. It...It means that your soulmate is  _ hurt _ . That they’re hurt very badly.”

Spock looked down at his palm, horror welling inside him. “It does not hurt.”

“It won’t. Most people only notice the change because the mark gets cold.” She wiped at her eyes.

“And if the mark causes pain?” Sarek questioned, anxious to know more about this facet of his wife and son’s life. He had never considered that the mark might do more than identify Amanda to him. Now he found out it could tell him if his wife were gravely hurt?

“It, it would burn. Like acid on sensitive skin. And the mark would bleach itself completely white, while the skin around it becomes red and irritated. In Spock’s case green. It only lasts a few days, but… but the pain is  _ nothing _ compared to what you feel in your heart when your soul is ripped in half. Humans with white marks are the ones who survived the death of their soulmates. There are a lot of us that...that  _ follow _ our soulmate if we don’t have something to keep us here. Even then, sometimes it’s  _ still _ too much.” Her breathing shook a little, and she hugged herself. As if she’d gone suddenly cold in the sweltering vulcan heat. “A paling mark like Spock’s means that the soul who’s tied to it is gravely ill or injured. They’re close to death...”

Spock felt as if the breath had been punched out of his chest. His soulmate, his T’hy’la, was close to death. And there was nothing he could do about it. He hadn’t even  _ met _ them yet! Everything in him was screaming at him to go, to find his soulmate and protect them. Help them. Save them. 

_ Something _ !  _ Anything _ !

His mother’s hands tenderly cupped his own again. Her thoughts were much calmer this time, her emotions settled by sheer force of will. He could still feel her terror on his behalf. But she was controlling it for his sake. 

“Spock… For now all you can do is wait. Hopefully your soulmate will recover. Your mark will go back to normal... If… if it starts to hurt…” 

She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to. The ‘ _ come find me, let me help you _ ’ whispered through his mind as surely as if she’d spoken aloud. He gave a jerky little nod, and left her to his father’s care. 

In his room, he cradled his hand close to his chest.

His breathing slowed, as his father had taught him. Spock turned his focus inward. It wasn’t a healing trance. He was still aware of his surroundings. It was a couple steps removed from that. 

He took note of all the inconsistencies in between his two hands. The difference in temperature. In color… in sensation. He trailed the pads of his fingers over his palm. Normally he would be hyper aware of any touch to his hands, especially his mark. Now?

He could barely feel his fingertips against it. 

His right hand resting in his lap, his left slipped up under his shirt to cradle the second mark on his side. The second mark was as it had always been. The skin was smooth and warmer than the surrounding flesh. They were alive. They were well, and hopefully safe. It comforted him, to know that  _ that _ one at least was unharmed.

Minutes passed by like hours while he monitored the changes.

When the warmth slowly began to return, his heart finally began to beat normally again. He continued to monitor the condition of his mark, just in case. But it never hurt. The changes were minute, and glacially slow. But the mark was slowly returning to normal. Whatever had happened to his soulmate had not killed them. They lived. And for now that was all he could ask for.

* * *

 

 

It happened again.

Again and again, the mark on his hand paled. Never the one over his heart. Each time, he found an excuse to retreat into the privacy of his room and dutifully watched over his marks. One wan and pale, the other warm and comforting. Sometimes it took longer than others, and he would spend days focused on his marks. But the mark on his hand always returned to normal.

As time went by, he began to notice a pattern. It varied slightly, never more than a few days at a time. But it was a pattern nonetheless. And a pattern allowed him to predict when such would occur. Each time his hand returned to normal, he found himself praying that this would be the last time. It wasn’t logical. But it was all he could do.

For three years, the patterns held true.

The palings were frequent at first. But during the second year they began to spread out. Weeks would go by without an incident. And eventually months. And then he would feel the cold sweep through his hand during a class, or wake up violently in the middle of the night with dread curdling his stomach.

And then it simply... _ stopped _ .

Spock had no explanation. But he desperately hoped that his soulmate’s life had taken a turn for the better.

* * *

 

 

When he turned down his admission to the VSA, it was with a cold rage in his heart. 

That anyone should consider S'chn T'gai Amanda Grayson a  _ weakness _ was abominable. He would go to StarFleet instead. He would excel in his classes. He would _flourish_ in the fleet. He would prosper. And they would someday regret their inability to _keep_ him.

It was only once he was on a ship bound for earth that he thought about his soulmates. 

He was going to earth. The likeliest location for him to find his soulmates. There were other species that had soulmate identifying marks, but each species was different. Vulcans identified their soulmates through melds, which was why so few found theirs. Klingons identified theirs through matching bruises, and Andorians couldn’t see colors until they met the gaze of their soulmate. The Orions had the unique adaptation of recognizing their mates through sexual relations. Their mates were completely and utterly immune to their pheromones. 

Only humans and betazoids marked their partners with a touch.

As his mother was human, it was only logical that his mate would likely be of her species. Though he would not discount the possibility of a betazoid soulmate. 

He would remain open to both ideas.

His mind roved over the palings of his mark. As stars soared past the observation window, he determined to be on the lookout for them. They had suffered. And the sooner he found them, the sooner he could get answers. The sooner he could keep them safe.

Hopefully they’d stay out of trouble until he could.

* * *

 

 

He’d seen the cadet before.

Many times in point of fact. The cadet had enlisted at the academy around the same time that Spock had become an instructor. He’d never had the blond as one of his own students, but he had seen him frequently about campus from a distance. He always seemed to be surrounded by his peers. Always laughing and joking, playfully pushing this one or tweaking that one’s ponytail. No matter how large the group, the blond always drew Spock’s eye.

The cadet also seemed to have quite the reputation. Instructors described him as brilliant but undisciplined almost to the point of defiance. 

The students seemed to regard him either with friendship or disdain. 

His friend Nyota was one of the latter. While she freely admitted that cadet Kirk was intelligent, she saw him as a grandstanding playboy. Oddly enough, she seemed to think very highly of cadet Kirk’s closest friend. Spock had not seen that cadet, or if he had, he hadn’t realized it. He knew nothing of him. But he found it odd that someone Nyota held in high esteem would lower himself to be friends with a character such as Nyota and the other instructors described. 

Face to face with the blond for the first time, Spock was beginning to understand the multiple points of view. There was a ‘devil may care’ attitude about him, as his mother would’ve said. A natural charisma that drew the eye. Not even Spock was entirely immune, much to his surprise. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of the cadet. At the same time, there was a defiant set to the man that the instructor in him found off putting. 

And his  _ intelligence _ . 

The cadet had displayed a  _ high _ level intelligence during his defeat of the Kobayashi Maru. The trick was  _ proving _ it. A blind man could see that he had done it, but it had taken considerable effort on Spock’s part to even come close to understanding  _ how _ the cadet had managed it. He  _ still _ didn’t have all the answers! And no solid proof.

Still, Spock had felt that it was his duty as an instructor to turn in his findings, meager as they were. He hadn’t expected the admiralty to act so quickly, it would have been more logical to wait and accumulate more evidence. Perhaps they had thought the cadet would fold under the pressure of having been caught, and confess. 

A highly unlikely outcome, given the boldness of the infraction.

“You of all people should know cadet Kirk. The captain cannot cheat death.”

For one second, something other than defiance flashed in the cadet’s eyes. If Spock didn’t know better, he would have thought that look was  _ hurt _ . It disappeared before he could be certain. 

“I of all people.” The cadet muttered. His hand crept up seemingly without his permission. He fingered at the collar of his uniform. No, that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t the uniform. There was something black under there. Not an undershirt, it dully reflected the light in a way that the matt black undershirts that were standard issue to StarFleet personnel did not. And the undershirts didn’t have a high enough collar to be seen over the cadet reds. Leather, Spock thought. A collar of some sort. Definitely  _ not _ standard issue. Worn for personal reasons then. Though what it’s purpose might be, Spock couldn’t fathom.

Interesting.

Perhaps the cadet had not understood Spock’s meaning. That was easily remedied. Spock expanded on his statement. To experience fear in the face of certain death. And to maintain control of one’s ship and crew. 

The fact that the simulation had failed to produce the desired fearful effect on Spock himself was conveniently omitted. It was illogical to fear a simulation. Especially one he himself had helped to create.

“I don’t believe in no win scenarios.”

Such determination. 

Spock wondered if it was something he had inherited from his father. If it was, it was one of the few things that  _ had _ been passed on. This cadet seemed the exact opposite of his father. George Kirk’s sacrifice was taught to every cadet that came through StarFleet. By all accounts, George Kirk had been a good officer and an exemplary human being. What would he have thought of the way that his son had turned out? More than likely he would’ve been very disappointed in his progeny’s decisions.

“We’ve received a distress call from vulcan.”

Everything else ceased to matter.

* * *

 

 

The cadet had ceased to be a  _ minor _ annoyance.

Spock had been as surprised as everyone else when the cadet had come careening into the bridge, yelling about it being a trap. A brunet medical cadet had come flying in right behind him with Nyota in tow, and was trying to de-escalate the situation. Apparently Kirk was having some sort of reaction to a medication. The hypo in his hand seemed to bear out his story. 

But why was Nyota present?

Spock stayed back, letting his Captain handle the issue. Instead, he studied cadet Kirk himself. The cadet was in a state of undress. His blond hair was tousled, his eyes wild and bright and the color in his cheeks was high. He’d lost his cadet reds, and was dressed instead in the black thermals and little else. The leather collar he’d been wearing before was gone from his neck. Pink marks wrapped around his throat, marring the pale skin. A soulmark of some sort? No, he could see coal black marks curling around the sides of the cadet’s neck and covering the back. A birthmark maybe. Or a scar. But why hide it with the collar? And why remove the collar now? 

He wasn’t sure exactly at what point the cadet’s wild accusations started making sense.

He knew that cadet Kirk had been specifically recruited by Pike, some had even described him as ‘the captain’s pet’. Spock wasn’t entirely certain, but he got the impression that the name was derogatory in nature and indicated favoritism. The captain’s promotion of Kirk to First Officer seemed to bear out that theory. But, were it not for Kirk, the Enterprise wouldn’t have been ready for attack when it arrived at Vulcan. It would not have survived the Narada’s initial strike.

He needed more _data_.

* * *

 

 

The cadet’s behavior had only become more and more insubordinate and obstreperous.

The display on the bridge had been reckless and truculent. And the attack on the security guards when they tried to remove him… He refused to stand for it. Spock had felt completely justified in marooning him on Delta Vega. Bizarrely, the friend that Nyota held in such high esteem never said a word in protest. The brunette remained where he was, a tight set to his jaw. And he remained quiet. 

A curious reaction.

Spock had thought the troublesome cadet out of his hair.

Except cadet Kirk had, impossibly, returned to the ship mid-warp. And now they were here. With Kirk in his face, his words biting into Spock’s already raw wounds. 

“Back away from me.”

Kirk only leaned closer, his words turning sharper. 

“...You never loved her!”

Spock lashed out. He didn’t even hesitate. He struck the cadet without a second thought. The fight that followed was fast and brutal. Spock threw blow after blow, not caring where he hit, or how hard. Only that the blows connected. He was vaguely aware of the people around them. Of their frightened faces. But only in his peripheral. Kirk had his full attention. His hand found Kirk’s throat and he bore down hard. Cut off the man’s air supply. 

The warmth was unexpected.

It zipped through his senses, lighting up the nerve endings throughout his entire being. It poured through him, made his heart race in his side. He felt… _whole_. The mind that brushed against his own was brilliant and warm, it  _ shone _ . He could feel it moving at lightning speeds. 

He could feel its  _ fear _ .

“Spock!”

He snatched his hand away, horror flooding him. His soulmate. He had found his _T’hy’la_! And he had almost  _ killed _ him. On the bridge. In front of the crew. They had all born witness while he  found and lost his soulmate in the same horrible instant. For, surely, he had lost him as soon as their skin touched.

He backed away, staring at the man that should have been his  _ everything _ gasping for breath on the console. His throat was as black as the space between stars. It  _ had _ to hurt. Spock could feel the tenderness in his own palm and fingers from the activated mark. His T’hy’la would definitely have bruises in addition to the tenderness of the mark. 

He had to make this right.

And he could start by doing what he _should’ve_ done from the first.

“I relinquish command on the grounds that I have been… emotionally compromised.” The words felt surreal. He pressed on. “Please note the date and time in the ship’s log.”

The look in Kirk’s eyes… Spock couldn’t face that.

He fled the bridge.

* * *

 

 

“Why did you marry my mother?”

“Because I loved her.”

Because I loved her. Because she was my T’hy’la. My soulmate. My everything. She was the half that made me hole. She brought joy into my life. She was gentleness. And kindness. Soft words, and warm touches given freely. She loved me for who I was, nothing more, nothing less.

Because _I loved her_.

His father said so very little. He never wasted a word. And yet what few words he chose conveyed more than additional words ever could. 

“... I understand now, why he chose to hide his mark before.” Spock felt his throat close. “I marked him with violence Samek… I disgraced myself, and you with my actions. I let my emotions rule my actions, and my T’hy’la paid the price… Mother would be ashamed of what I have done…”

Tears burned his eyes, and for the first time in years he considered letting them fall.

Knuckles smoothed softly down his cheek. 

The affectionate touch was a surprise, though no less welcome for it. His father wasn’t usually so demonstrative. Spock dared a glance at him. Sarek’s cheek was grotesquely discolored. His mark had bleached itself white, the skin around it a raw angry green. It bled out in all directions, discoloring his skin, his eye, everything in its path. But there was little swelling. The bleached white mark looked more like a scar from a knife than a tender caress. He had to be in immense pain. He  _had_ to be. 

But he gave no sign of it.

“You have behaved badly.” his father agreed quietly. “Were the circumstances other than they are, I would be ashamed of you. But they are not. We have lost much today. Too much… Your logic was not sound, and your T’hy’la knew or guessed as much. It is my belief that he provoked you purposefully. Likely he did not expect so strong a response, but such has always been our way. We feel _too_ _much_.” 

Spock could feel his father’s pain through that gentle brush on his cheek. The absence of his mother in both their minds was a raw and bleeding wound, and he was not sure it would ever heal.

“You are in pain. Your mother would understand such. Far better than I. But she would also expect you to try and make amends.”

“Samek…” Spock swallowed hard. “Nothing I could ever say or do could make amends for _harming_ him in such a manner.”

“Perhaps not. But she would still expect you to _try_.”

Illogical. The height of human illogicality. But his mother had been oh so very human. And he had loved her unconditionally. His soulmate was human too. And he was fast on the way to loving him too. He had to try.

“Thank you, father. Your logic is sound.”

* * *

 

  
  


The collar was back.

Spock endeavored not to stare at his captain’s throat when he returned to the bridge. But it was hard. The broad, thick leather band was completely uncovered for the first time. It obscured the mark on Kirk’s,  _ Jim’s _ , throat. He could just barely pick out the tip of a finger peeking over the edge of the band. 

Jim caught him looking.

The blond raised his chin defiantly. Showcasing the coal black leather. Spock didn’t know why the collar had been removed, but its return made his soulmate’s position abundantly clear. He would not be cowed by Spock’s strength. He would not be intimidated by the violence that had been directed his way. And the fact that Spock was his soulmate _didn’t matter_. If Spock wanted anything from this man, he would have to _earn_ it.

His soulmate had suffered. 

Spock had known ever since the first paling of his mark. And illogically, he had found himself  _ praying _ that his soulmate would have the strength to go on until Spock could find him. And it seemed his prayers hadn’t gone unheard. That suffering had made his soulmate strong. Spock only regretted that that strength was needed to protect Jim from  _ him _ . 

He inclined his head in greeting, and steadfastly ignored the offensive piece of leather that attempted to hide what this man was to him. Instead, he focused on the plan they were attempting to put together. Preposterous as it sounded at first… It was possible.

It was the best plan they had.

There was a very low chance of success. But as he couldn’t suggest a better course of action, he had no choice but to follow through. He plunged into the planning and preparation with a will. His birth planet had been lost, the majority of one race destroyed. He would do everything in his power to save the planet and the other race that still remained. 

No matter what it took.

Later, piloting the Jellyfish towards the Narada, all he could think about was Jim. Was his T’hy’la still onboard the Narada? He had almost killed Jim once, was he about to  _ actually _ kill him this time? Had he finally found him, only to lose him in the first twenty-four hours? 

Had Mr. Scott already beamed him back? Would Mr. Scott be quick enough to get Spock out? Was Spock going to die in the Jellyfish, before he had a chance to make amends for what he’d done?

When the golden light of the transporter deposited him next to Jim back on the Enterprise his relief was palpable. That relief only grew when he realized that Jim had succeeded in rescuing Captain Pike. Dr. McCoy swooped in immediately to take charge of their injured captain, and Spock was following  _ his _ captain back up to the bridge.

It wasn’t over yet. __

* * *

 

  
  


The work was never ending.

Spock had never felt so exhausted in his life. How his T’hy’la and the other human members of his crew were still on their feet without the aid of vulcan stamina was a mystery. There was so much that needed to be done. 

Emergency repairs to the inside of the damaged hull. Shoring up compromised structural supports. Repairs to the gutted engines; as well as Mr. Scott and his crew of engineers could manage without the requisite parts. Reassigning quarters to those who had lost theirs, and to the vulcan elders that had been beamed aboard. Finding additional room for sickbay to use since a portion of their area had been lost…

The list was endless.

He followed his T’hy’la off the bridge, grateful for the reprieve. It was only once the door shut him into the turbo lift that he realized he was  _ alone _ with his captain. He glanced over. Blue eyes were watching him. Apparently he _wasn’t_ alone in his realization. Jim shifted slightly to face him. His face was pale.

Spock ducked his head in shame. He deserved that wariness. 

“Jim. I…”

“...Spock.”

Jim’s voice was a harsh, painful rasp, nowhere near the powerful tone of command that had guided them through their confrontation with the Narrada and the hours that followed. It wasn’t wariness or fear that made him go pale. 

It was physical  _ distress _ !

Spock reached for him without thinking. “Captain…  _ Jim _ , what is wrong?!”

The blond flinched away from his touch, leaning against the wall. One hand cupped his throat, his breathing becoming harsher. Spock hovered anxiously, unsure how to help. Jim seemed to understand. He pointed at the com on Spock’s hip. 

“...Bones.” He rasped. There were tears welling in his eyes. “...please…”

Bones? 

“Jim, I do not understand… If you will not let me help, will you allow me to call Dr. McCoy?”

Jim nodded sharply.

Spock didn’t waste any time. “Spock to CMO.”

“ _ McCoy here _ .”

“Doctor, be advised that I am bringing the captain down to sickbay. He appears to be in some form of respiratory distress.” Redirecting the turbo lift manually to take them to the correct deck, he added “However, he did mention ‘bones’. It is possible he suffered a fracture at some point during our rescue of Captain Pike.”

“ _ Bones is  _ me _! _ ” The doctor snapped. “ _ Get him down here on the double! If he’s so hard up he’s  _ asking _ to come to sick bay then he’s probably dying, the stubborn brat! _ ”

On the other side of the turbo lift, Jim rolled his eyes.

Spock stared. “... I sincerely hope you are being hyperbolic doctor.”

“ _ Just get him down here! _ ” 

The lift came to a stop. Jim made as though to step out… and stumbled over his own feet. He grabbed at the edge of the door for support. Exhaustion and distress dragged at his limbs, trying to pull him down into a crumpled heap. Spock stepped past him into the hall. It was deserted. He hoped it would stay that way.

“Jim. We will move more swiftly if I assist you… Will you let me help you?” An obstinate look twisted Jim’s features. Words failed Spock, as he tried to find the right ones to convince Jim. He could only find one. “...Please.”

Apparently, it was the right one.

Something in the face softened, and Jim held out an arm. Spock didn’t give him a chance to change his mind. He slid in close to his  side and hauled him upright. This close he could hear the raspiness of his breathing, and it sent another bolt of fear through him. Spock hurried them down the hall as quickly as the captain could manage. The sooner they got to sickbay, the better.

* * *

 

  
  


McCoy was waiting for them.

The doctor was on them before they’d even cleared the door. Tricorder focused on Jim, he nonetheless effortlessly shepherded them past prying eyes and straight into a private room. It was small, containing nothing more than a bed and diagnostic equipment. But Jim seemed to appreciate the lack of medical staff.

McCoy caught Jim by the arm and shoved him unceremoniously onto the bed. If Jim hadn’t been _hurt_ , and McCoy hadn’t been a _doctor_ , Spock would’ve done everything in his power to keep anyone and everyone _away_ from his vulnerable soulmate. Particularly someone as rough as the CMO seemed intent on being. The vulcan swallowed those instincts back and let McCoy get close. Jim needed help, and like it or not, it wasn’t the sort of help Spock could provide. Nor, he suspected, would Jim accept more help from him so soon. 

“Ok Jim, easy now. That collar’s gotta come off ok?”

Jim grimaced, but ducked his head to give McCoy better access to the buckle.

McCoy didn’t let him rethink it. He shucked off the collar quickly and set it in Jim’s hands, then ran his tricorder over his throat again. He frowned at the readings and set it aside. “Jim, I’m going to touch ok? Just breathe and try an’ relax for me, alright?”

Calloused hands carefully cradled Jim’s throat. Jim shivered, but he didn’t pull away. After a moment, he relaxed into the touch. 

Behind his back, Spock’s hands clenched into fists. It was his own fault that Jim feared his touch, but it was galling to see the way he relaxed into McCoy’s gruff handling.  _ McCoy _ wasn’t his soulmate,  _ Spock _ was! And his instincts  _ demanded _ that he chase away this suiter that would take his mate from him.

McCoy didn’t seem to realize what thin ice he was walking on.

He pulled his hand away and gave Jim a glare. “Any extra curricular activities you wanna share with the class Jim? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, it don’t look like the hobgoblin’s the only one that’s wrung your neck today.”

Jim grimaced, shooting a dirty look at the doctor when McCoy kept him from rubbing his sore neck.

“Fess up.”

The young captain deflated. “Yeah… Nero tried... Happy Bones?” 

His voice was rough, and the long pauses for breath in between seemed to worry McCoy as much as they worried Spock. The doctor grabbed up a hypo and slipped a cartridge into it. “An’ you didn’t mention it before because…?”

“...busy?”

“Damnit Jim! You survive two stranglings in one day and you don’t think there’s gonna be consequences?! You don’t think your body’s gonna react? Your damn throat is swelling shut you idiot!” 

Harsh words aside, the fingers that palpated the side of his neck were gentle. Jim barely flinched. Still ranting, the doctor seemed to find the spot he was looking for. He settled the hypo against it and injected. Jim jumped at the sting of the needle. But he stayed quiet.

“You didn’t fuss. You must ‘a been feeling more poorly than I thought.” McCoy commented. He put the hypo away and picked the tricorder up again. “That should bring the swelling down. Once you can breathe properly I’ll give you something for the pain… Jim, I know you had a lot goin’ on with Nero, an’ so did I. But… damnit, next time say something! If you’d keeled over on the bridge without anyone knowing what was bugging you and I wasn’t quick enough to figure it out…!” 

Jim gave him a look that Spock’s mother had often referred to as ‘hangdog’. “Sorry Bones... Wasn’t ...thinking. ...didn’t hurt so.... so bad then.... An’ I’ve had worse... so…”

The doctor smacked Jim over the back of the head. “Don’t. Just because you  _ can _ take something doesn’t mean you  _ should _ .”

Jim mustered up a grin. “Wait... so I don’t…. don’t  _ have  _ to... take you... smacking me over... the head…?”

Len smacked him again for good measure. “You’ll take it and like it. Someone’s gotta knock some sense into that hard head of yours…” He huffed and ruffled Jim’s hair. “Scare me like that again and I’ll plant my boot up the seat of your pants.” 

Jim snorted. “Deal.”

Spock’s fists tightened further. He was trying to maintain his composure, but the doctor wasn’t helping by  _ hitting _ his  _ mate _ right in front of him!

Jim abruptly tensed. Blue eyes darted up to Spock’s for a second, and then away again. Looking very much like he would rather be anywhere else but there, Jim slowly extended his left arm. “Could you…” He swallowed hard. “...Could you… set this… Please?”

McCoy gingerly cradled the captain’s forearm. Careful not to jostle it, he slid Jim’s sleeve back. Underneath, the black thermal had already been pushed back. Bracing his arm from wrist to elbow were slender bars of metal. The three flat pieces had been secured there with Romulan cargo ties at the top and bottom. The encased flesh below was bruised and discolored.

Jim wouldn’t look at them. “Thought… was just bruised...Heard it… crack. On the… the Nerada…” He winced, and Spock could feel a twinge of pain even from where he was standing. “Splinted… kept movin’... couldn’t… be late.”

Spock’s stomach roiled. He had distinct memories of Jim fending off an overhead blow with crossed arms. The  _ left _ one on top. Strength that could bend steel with bare hands would have no trouble fracturing bone. Additional strain could easily push the fracture into a full on break. Jim was lucky the break hadn’t put bone through the skin.

“Ok. You did good splintin’ it Jim.” McCoy cut the cargo ties away and let the metal bars fall into Jim’s lap. Now that the splint was out of the way, it was easy to see where the broken bone was pressing up from inside. The doctor shook his head. “Jesus Jim... How is it that you will fuss like a toddler over a burnt tongue or a paper cut, but with a real injury you make less noise than a sleeping cat? ...alright, Spock, can you come here a second?”

Spock stepped closer, making sure to keep in front of Jim so as not to frighten him.

McCoy pulled a table closer and set Jim’s forearm on it. “Alright. You break it, you fix it. Vulcans are three times stronger ‘n a human, so we’re gonna put that to good use. Put your hand here, hold his elbow down. Other one can go here on his shoulder. Hold him still while I set it.”

You break it, you fix it. 

Spock swallowed hard. He wasn’t the only one who had realized that the bone had already been compromised. And in his own gruff way McCoy had chastised Spock for it. He held no illusions that he would likely hear more on the subject later, but he was beginning to get the impression that the doctor was much more aware of Jim’s comfort than he let on. 

Spock hesitated. “Jim… Is this acceptable?”

Jim glanced up. He gave a jerky nod, then quickly averted his eyes again. As if trying to distance himself both from Spock and his injured limb. 

Dr. McCoy arched an eyebrow at him. “Well? You gonna help or ain’t ya?”

Spock gripped his soulmate’s arm firmly where the doctor had told him to. The clothing in the way did little to curb the low throb of pain welling up from Jim’s skin. Nor the rampant beat of  _ fear fear fear _ that started up the second Spock firmed his grip. McCoy gripped him at the wrist, and new emotions bloomed. The  _ fear _ was still there. But it was tempered by  _ anticipation _ and, oddly enough, by  _ safe _ and  _ protected _ . 

“Hey Jim? Did you bring your book with you?”

Spock felt Jim’s  _ surprise _ and  _ confusion _ well up at the non sequitur.

“...what? You… you know… I didn’t AHH!”

McCoy set the bone, using his hands and his tricorder to check his work. “They say it hurts less if it’s a surprise.”

Jim growled. “Damnit… Bones…”

“And you fall for it every damn time.” 

Satisfied that the  bone was where it needed to be, McCoy set the bone knitter up over Jim’s arm and put it to work. It took almost fifteen minutes to finish. But by the time it was through the bone was as good as new. The flesh around it was still bruised all to hell, but the medical bay just didn’t have the power resources to deal with minor injuries. If it could heal naturally and didn’t impede their ability to do their job, they would cover it and let it do so.

McCoy gave him another hypo. 

That was when Spock saw it. Jim had  _ two _ black marks. One on his throat, and one on the back of his neck. He wracked his brain, trying to understand how he hadn't noticed before. But he  _ had _ noticed, he realized with chagrin. That first time on the bridge, when Jim had come careening in without his collar. Spock had seen both marks, but had dismissed his own unactivated mark as a pink birthmark because he could clearly see an activated one on the back of Jim’s neck. He had forgotten about it. And later, after he had activated, he had failed to remember that other mark. 

Could it be? Was it possible that Jim’s second soulmate was also the owner of Spock’s second mark? Spock had just assumed that he would outlive the first soulmate and then find the second, but if Jim already had one… But who could it be? For a second, he considered McCoy. Jim felt safe with him. 

But even as he was considering the possibility, Jim and McCoy debunked it.

“That one’s for the pain.” McCoy told Jim. “I know you’ve got a higher threshold than any five people put together, but humor me.” Jim stuck out his tongue and McCoy rolled his eyes. “Infant. My daughter is more mature than you are. They oughta let  _ her _ pilot this thing.”

A daughter. So McCoy was already married and had a child. Not Jim’s soulmate then.

Jim giggled and gave him a thumbs up.

“Damn right she’d do good.” McCoy agreed. He pushed Jim towards the head of the bed. “Go on ahead and lay down. Until I’m sure that throat of yours isn’t going to swell up and choke you, you’re damn well staying here. You might as well get some rest.” He pointed one accusatory finger at Spock. “That goes for you too ya damn hobgoblin. Take your sorry ass back to your quarters. If I find out you’re up and back on duty without a  _ minimum _ of six hours sleep I  _ will _ tan your hide black and green first officer or no. So help me I will!”

Spock arched an eyebrow, but he didn’t argue. He knew that he was exhausted. But the thought of leaving Jim… “When you are released from sickbay Jim, you may sleep in my quarters. Given the illicit nature in which you boarded, I doubt you had quarters before. Now that we have had to reassign quarters you most certainly do not.”

“I’ll...bear it in… mind.”

He wouldn’t. Spock didn’t know how, but he knew that Jim wouldn’t come. He watched as the blond rolled over, and apparently drifted off to sleep. He stood for a few moments, loathe to leave his soulmate while he was hurt and vulnerable. But right now, what Jim needed most was his absence. He slipped from the room, and McCoy herded him out of sickbay. 

“Six hours Spock!” The doctor called after his retreating back. “Six!”

He did not dignify that with a response.

Returning to his own quarters he found his father already there, already fast asleep. Most of the vulcan elders had been placed in the more spacious captain’s quarters on cots. Sarek had chosen to set up his own cot in Spock’s quarters. It was the logical decision, as it gave the other elders a little more space. And it allowed him to be closer to the only remaining immediate family member he had. He and Spock were scraped raw both psychically and, though neither would ever admit it, emotionally. Close proximity to both their fellow vulcans and their remaining familial bonds would help begin the healing process for the psychic wounds. 

The emotional wounds…

… those would take far longer.

Spock left the lights off so as not to disturb his father. The meditation pillow barely made a whisper as he settled on it. His muscles relaxed, and his attention turned inward. He skirted the raw, gaping tract that was all that was left of the bond he’d shared with his mother. He wasn’t ready to attempt any sort of healing in that direction. It was too new, too deep. Too fresh. But there were other wounds that could be tended to. Other bloody furrows in his mind that could begin the healing processes. 

He hadn’t had many bonds to begin with, as few were willing to bond with a half breed. And those that he  _ had _ had were either familial, like his bonds with his parents and grandmother and a select few cousins, or were shallow things shared with those peers that tolerated him. Those shallow furrows could begin to close, though it would still take time for them to heal completely. The fact that his bond to T’Pring was one of those shallow wounds saddened him. One should feel more, when their intended was torn away without warning. No matter how cold or cruel she had behaved towards him, he would never have wished such an end to her.

At the core of his being, the faintest whispers of a new bond hummed with energy. The barest wisp of gold thread, where his katra had begun to spin out in search of a bond with Jim. He couldn’t sense Jim, his soulmate was too far away for him to sense without a bond. After everything that had happened, it was unlikely that Jim would be willing to consider a bond anytime soon. To suggest such would surely frighten him away. Better to wait, and to earn his trust, as he should have from the start.

But he  _ wanted _ .

He had never  _ wanted _ anything so badly in his life. Spock sighed. Wanting a thing would not make it a reality. Only effort would. He completed his meditations and slipped across the room to his bed, setting an alarm to the requisite six hours the doctor had demanded. Tomorrow, he would try to right the wrong he had committed. 

He couldn’t help but draw his fingertips across the black skin of his palm as he settled. The skin was incredibly sensitive to the touch. All vulcan hands were sensitive, but this was far beyond the usual levels. This was raw and tender. Likely he would have to make more frequent use of his other hand until the sensitivity faded.

He threaded his hand underneath his shirt, laying the activated mark against the print on his side. He fell asleep like that, both marks safe beneath his hand. He wouldn’t give up. And he would make a better impression on the other.

He had to.

* * *

 

 

Spock arrived in the medical bay as soon as was feasible upon waking.

Doctor McCoy didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see him there. A thought occurred to Spock, and he intercepted the brunette. McCoy gave him an exasperated look, but allowed Spock to detain him.

“You better ‘ave spent the time sleeping or I’m gonna turn you right around and send you straight back to your quarters.” He growled.

“I assure you I acquired the amount of sleep you  demanded.” Spock answered dryly. “What is the captain’s current condition?”

The doctor sighed. “Better. I’ve got the swelling under control, and he hasn’t had anymore incidents since you brought him in last night. He’ll be hurting for a while, he’s got one hell of a bruise on top of an activated soulmark. But he won’t let me give him anything for the pain this morning. Given how high his pain threshold is, and how many other people are hurt, I can’t really fault him for it. He can take it, and there’re others hurt far worse. He’ll live, and it seems like every time I turn around I’ve got another idiot from engineering waiting for me to fix up their mistakes.” He snorted. “I can heal their body just fine, but dumbassery and lack a common sense is ‘tween them and the almighty. If they’re not careful, I might just give in to temptation and arrange the meeting for them!”

Spock frowned, but pushed his concern for the impending death of the engineers aside. He had another more pressing question to ask. “Doctor, you were the captain’s physician prior to this journey, were you not?”

“Damnit man, his name’s  _ Jim _ !” McCoy snapped. Visibly reigning himself in, he added, “And yeah, I’ve been his doctor for the past three years.”

“Then you are aware of the second soulmark on the back of his neck?”

The doctor raised an eyebrow that would’ve done any vulcan proud. “I’m aware. What about it?”

“Has anyone informed his second soulmate of the capt- of  _ Jim _ ’s condition? If they are onboard…” 

“They are, they’ve already been informed, and they saw ‘im not too long ago.” McCoy cut in. Eyeing him shrewdly, he asked “Why the interest in Jim’s first?”

There was something calculating in that gaze. Something that discouraged half truths. He wasn’t sure why, but Spock got the impression if he was anything less than honest with this man he would lose something important. And he wouldn’t get a second chance.

“...I also have a second mark. I had assumed that I would outlive my first soulmate before finding the second. However, as Jim has a second one as well…”

“You don’t know jack shit about human soulmates do you?” McCoy ignored Spock’s affronted look and turned his attention to his padd. “Humans only get  _ one _ soulmate. That’s it. End of discussion. Only exception to that are cases like Jim. Three people all soulmated to each other. It’s called a ‘triad’, and it’s damn fucking rare. Last known case was several centuries back. It’s an all or nothin’ deal, you’re soulmated to  _ one _ , you’re soulmated to  _ both _ . None of this picking an’ choosing bullshit. Unless there’s been some cosmic screw up, Jim’s soulmate is definitely yours too.” He glanced up, fingers pausing on his padd. “You planning on making them a matched set?” 

Spock shuddered in revulsion at the idea of marking both of his soulmates the way he had marked Jim. “Negative. My second soulmark indicates that it is likely the other will initiate contact. Though how they will come to lay hand on my mark remains a mystery to me. You are certain that this individual is the owner of my second mark?” The doctor nodded. “May I ask their name?”

McCoy went back to his pad. “Nope. As a matter a fact you can’t. They know who you are, they know their mark is yours. They’ll come to you when they’re damn good an’ ready.”

“You have discussed this with them?”

“We talked about it this morning.”

“They intend to wait?”

"Yep.”

“For what?”

McCoy eyed him critically. “To see what they make of you.”

Spock felt his heart drop. So much for making a better impression on his second soulmate. 

The doctor huffed. “Now  _ drop it _ Commander. You’ve got more than enough on your plate sorting your shit out with Jim. No need to borrow trouble worrying about your second until they’re ready to deal with your nonsense.” He waved Spock off in the general direction of the private room from the night before. “Now go get Jim and get the hell out of my sickbay, I got enough to deal with without you two idiots cluttering up my space. Jim hasn’t eaten yet, you can take him to the mess and get him some breakfast. You and I’ll have to make sure he gets fed, he doesn’t have a meal card of his own. Being a  _ stowaway _ and all.”

Spock hadn’t considered that Jim wouldn’t be able to get food for himself. He didn’t doubt that Jim would be more than capable of finding a way on his own. But it made something in him lift, that here was something positive he could do for his T’hy’la. That he could take care of Jim went a long way to soothing the instincts that had been riled the night before when he could do nothing but stand aside and let McCoy tend to Jim. And perhaps, by doing right by Jim, he could also soothe some of his second soulmate’s worries.

“I shall attend to it immediately. Have you ruled Jim fit for duty?”

“Much as I hate to say it, yes. He’s hurting, but he can do his damn job. Now go get him and get the hell out of my sickbay.”

* * *

 

 

Jim was dressed and apparently waiting for something.

Spock got the impression that it was him. Jim didn’t seem all that surprised to see Spock enter. If anything he seemed resigned. As though bracing himself. He’d been running his fingers over the bruises on his arm, deep in thought.

The activated marks around Jim’s neck stood out in stark relief against his skin, which was still paler than than his usual sun kissed hue. As did the bruises that surrounded them. The swelling in his left arm had gone down substantially, but was equally technicolored. 

Jim blushed and hurriedly shoved his sleeve back down. “Spock…. Um… sleep well?”

Spock inclined his head, relieved to hear that Jim’s voice was much closer to normal this morning. “It was adequate.”

Jim made a face. “...right. How’s your dad? And the Vulcan elders?”

The ache of their loss seemed to become stronger with the reminder. “As well as can be expected. Vulcans rely heavily on psychic bonds; to our families, friends, and planet. Such wounds are not easily healed, especially alone. We are aiding each other as we can, but a mind healer is what is truly needed. Such will have to wait until we have returned to Earth and one can be located. Until then, they will manage as best they can.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?”

It surprised him, the care his T’hy’la was showing towards his father and the elders, when by all rights he should have no cause to care for Vulcans at all. Spock tucked the thought away for later inspection and focused on the task at hand. “Not at this time, but I will convey your willingness to offer aid.”

“See that you do.” Jim agreed. He chewed on his lip for a second, then sighed and reached for the leather collar that lay on the bedside table. He deliberately did  _ not _ look at Spock while he buckled it on. 

It was illogical to hate a scrap of leather and metal.

Spock was really starting to hate it anyway.

“Jim… I wished to apologize for my actions. I…”

“No.” Blue eyes pinned Spock in place like a butterfly to a board. “You’re not the one who needs to apologize Spock. That one’s on me. I knew you were hurting, and I kept prodding at you anyway because it was the only way I could think of. And I hated every fucking second of it. No one deserves to have all of that thrown back in their face.” Jim’s face was full of fury, but even from where he stood by the door Spock could feel the guilt and self-recrimination. “I want you to know that I didn’t mean a word of what I said up there. You’re mother was an amazing woman, and I’m sure she was fucking  _ proud _ of you and of everything you’ve accomplished. I’m sorry for what I said, about her, and about you. I’ll be apologizing to your dad too. I made you look like an ass in front of him, and that’s on me too. And I am so  _ so _ sorry for all of it.”

Spock left the doorway. 

Standing before Jim, he lifted one hand. Jim visibly blanched, and Spock paused. “May I?”

Jim seemed almost surprised by the request. But he nodded.

Spock gently rested the backs of his knuckles against Jim’s cheekbone. A short little caress that moved just a little before coming to rest. It was a kiss, but one of affection rather than romance. The sort of kiss one would offer to a friend or family member. Jim was neither yet. But Spock’s katra was already spinning out threads of itself towards Jim, and for good or for ill Spock already cared deeply for his T’hy’la. He pressed calm and reassurance through the touch, and it pleased him when Jim unconsciously accepted it. 

The blond relaxed.  _ Slightly _ . But it was a start. 

“We are equally at fault. I am well aware how deeply Vulcan emotions run… Humans use the word ‘soulmates’. On Vulcan, the word is ‘T’hy’la’. To harm one’s T’hy’la is a grave offense, no matter the circumstances. That I have marked you with violence… Several times during my youth, your mark on my hand grew pale.”

Jim’s face went white, and Spock felt horror and alarm flash through Jim’s skin.

He battled it back with more calm and reassurance. It didn’t work as well the second time, but he tried. “My mother explained to me what such meant. It came as a surprise to my father as well, that the marks could be indicators of our soulmate’s health. During such times, I found myself hoping that you would have the strength and courage to survive, until such time as I could find you. Now I  _ have _ found you. And you have all the strength and courage I could have wished for you. And it pains me to know that you have need of both now simply to face me. Marking you with violence was never my intention. And I am truly sorry for what has passed. I only pray that someday you will find it in yourself to forgive me for the hurt and pain I have caused you.”

“I already did.”

Spock blinked, taken aback both by the words, and the simple truth of them pressing up through his skin. Jim truly  _ meant _ it! He’d  _ already _ forgiven Spock his transgression! But how?

Something must have shown on his face. There was a flash of concern on Jim’s skin, and then he was pulling Spock’s hand away and sitting up straighter. 

“Spock?”

Still a little off kilter, Spock tried to put the mess of thoughts and feelings into words because that was what Jim needed from him right now. “How can you forgive so easily? After all the hurt I have caused you? And do not deny that my mark has caused you grief. Why else would you hide it beneath a collar?”

The dislike he felt for the hated piece of leather was more obvious in his voice than he would have liked.

Jim traced his fingers over the leather self consciously. “It’s not just yours. I hide them both. It’s not immediately obvious that I have two soulmates, and people make a lot of snap judgements about me based on how the mark  _ looks _ like it was placed. General consensus is either I’m a victim and my soulmate is going to full throttle try to kill me…”

Spock couldn’t repress the wince at that.

Jim held up a finger. “... _ or _ , that I’m into kinky sex and have absolutely no standards whatsoever. Either way, people assume that they can walk all over me. Like I’m something beneath their contempt. And I got tired of it.  _ That’s _ why I wear the collar Spock. It’s not to hide something I’m ashamed of. It’s a piece of armor protecting something important to me. I’ve gone my whole life refusing to be afraid or ashamed of what my mark  _ could _ mean, and I’m not about to start now.”

Spock shook his head. “You forgive me far more easily than I forgive myself.”

“Do you hold what I said on the bridge against me?”

Spock gave the question the consideration it deserved. “No. I do not. I understood why you acted as you did, after the fact. As did my father. While your actions were hurtful, they were towards the greater good. And I do not bear any enmity towards you.” 

Jim gave him a tight smile. “But I do. Because I hurt you. It’s the same basic principle. I can forgive someone else far easier than I can forgive myself. Guess that’s something we’ll have to work on together.”

It made a certain amount of sense.  

And the fact that Jim said ‘we’ set a little flutter of hope through him. There was a chance for them. He hadn’t lost Jim. Not yet.

Jim hopped down off the biobed, and Spock scooted aside to let him. A loud rumble emanated from the blond’s stomach, and he blushed. “Um… breakfast?”

“Of course.”

* * *

 

 

Spock did not get to spend nearly as much time with Jim as he would’ve liked.

From the moment the two had hit the bridge, their feet had barely touched the ground. The problems from the day before had been joined by a whole host of new issues. Equipment failures, personnel injuries, and so _ so _ much more. And he and Jim had to see to it all.

Hours passed.

Occasionally Spock would see Jim at a distance, or would get to talk to him for a few minutes. But those instances were the opposite of reassuring. With each instance, Jim’s mood soured further. A dark cloud seemed to hang over the blond. It was clear that he was doing his best not to snarl and snap at his crew, but something was adversely affecting his mood. The dark cloud was growing larger. And Spock didn’t know how to help.

He returned to the bridge a few hours before the end of their shift.

The dark cloud might as well have been an entire terran thunderstorm. His expression was tight and grim as he worked on a padd in the command chair. All around him, his crew watched him nervously from the corners of their eyes. If the captain was that grim, then the situation  _ must _ be dire. Right?

The door slid open.

Doctor McCoy strode onto the bridge, looking as surly as ever. He took in the oppressive atmosphere at a glance and scowled. Catching an ensign as he was making his way off the bridge, he muttered something quietly to him. Presumably it was an order, because the ensign muttered a quick ‘yes sir’ before hurrying away. Satisfied, the doctor went straight to Spock. 

Curious. 

His original trajectory upon exiting the turbo lift had indicated that the captain was his initial target.

Leonard settled a hip against the science console, arms folded as he watched Jim. “How long’s he been acting like Oscar the Grouch?”

Spock arched an eyebrow. “I am unfamiliar with this person, but given the epithet I believe the correct answer is that the captain’s grim mood has been steadily deteriorating throughout the day. He has shown remarkable restraint in not verbally or otherwise taking his bleak mood out on the crew. However, it is still affecting them adversely. And his restraint is gradually slipping. If something is not done soon, I fear that he will lose his control.”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “You could’a just said storm’s been brewin’ all day and left it at that. Has he eaten?”

“I had breakfast with him, but our duties have kept us separate the majority of the day. I would assume that he would have had an ensign bring him food, as that would allow him to get around the issue of his lack of meal card.”

The doctor snorted, careful to keep quiet so as not to draw the captain’s attention. “I’ve been Jim’s roommate since we both joined up with this crazy outfit. Had three years to learn some of the ins and outs. So let me share a tidbit about Jim Kirk with you.... When Jim’s under a  _ lot _ of stress or  _ seriously _ upset, he forgets to eat. And that tends to just _tank_ his mood. There’s something about an empty belly and a bad day that just sours him up. Don’t know why, though I _know_ there’s a reason. But I can tell ya now, that’s why he’s like this. He got so busy he forgot to eat, is  _ still _ forgetting to eat, will probably  _ continue _ to forget until someone reminds him or he sees or smells food. And if you call him out on it he just gets grouchy and bites your head off.”

Spock filed the information away for future use and study. A strange dilemma, but if the answer was so simple… “How would you suggest that I proceed? After our… meeting yesterday…”  _ I don’t want to give him a reason to hate me more. _

The doctor seemed to understand the unspoken end of that sentence.

“Don’t worry about it. He’ll get used to you soon enough. An’ as for this? Just make a point of giving him an opportunity to eat. Invite him to share a meal, send an ensign with something, have someone pass him a glass of juice for that matter. So long as his belly button’s not rubbing a sore on his backbone while he’s under a lot of stress he’s peaches an’ cream. Used to be worse, but he’s gotten a lot better over the years. Now it’s only once in a blue moon.”

How did Jim understand this man with all of his colloquialisms?

“Oh, one other thing?” McCoy took two glasses of something amber in color from the returning ensign and sent him on his way. “If he eats, you eat. Even if it’s just a nibble or two, but eat something.”

Leaving a confused Spock behind, McCoy walked up to the captain’s chair and held the glass right in front of Jim’s  face. Jim glared at it for a second before turning to look at the offender who put it there. Whatever he might’ve said died on his tongue the second he realized it was McCoy. Spock watched in confusion as the stormy mood eased a little.

Jim took the glass and offered up a wry smile. “Hey Bones. What are you doing up here?”

“Came up here to grouch about the dumbassery of engineers and thought I’d bring you a pick-me-up. I know you’d live on coffee an’ deep fry if I’d let you. So it’s up to me to make sure your sorry ass has something healthy every now and again. Drink up, and then go tell whoever’s in charge of those morons that safety regulations are there for a god damned reason! I may be just an old souther doctor, but damnit, even  _ I _ know blood ain’t good for machines!”

Jim chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “It is a piss poor mechanical lubricant” he agreed, “How many engineers have you had run through your sick bay?”

“Seventeen today.” McCoy irritably sipped from his glass. “And I’ll probably have more waiting when I get back downstairs. I’m telling you Jim, either you do something about it or I’ll go knock some sense into their heads myself.”

Jim laughed, a full bodied thing that  _ finally _ dissipated the gloom of the bridge. “Alright Bones, I’ll talk to Scotty.”

“ _ After _ you finish that.”

Jim rolled his eyes and chugged the glass. “Happy Mom?”

“Delighted. Now quit clownin’ around and deal with those hooligans downstairs!”

Jim snapped a mischievous salute and handed the doctor his empty glass. McCoy was almost to the door before Jim called his name. “Hey Len?”

“Hm?”

“...Thanks.”

“Anytime brat.”

Grinning Jim keyed up the com built into the arm of his chair. “Bridge to Engineering.”

_ “Scotty here captain.” _

“Scotty, what’s this I hear about your engineers trying to commit suicide via angry CMO…?”

He never saw the grateful look exchanged between vulcan and human behind his back.

* * *

 


	4. Free Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... my intention was to have a prologue and three chapters... and then the damn plot bunny bit me in the ass and now I have far too much content for just ONE more chapter.   
> So.   
> I am TENTATIVELY saying that there will be five, because our boys still need to deal with Jim almost DYING so frequently as a kid (gee, I wonder where this is going), and that's probably gonna take up a chapter all on it's own. And now I'm toying with upping the rating and covering first time sexing each other up (we'll see, what do you guys think? Sex or no?)
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy!

 

 

* * *

The past few months had been better than Jim could’ve ever imagined.

Granted, the aftermath of Nero and the Nerada sucked. It _sucked_ _ass_ with a capital ‘A’ in point of fact. It would take _years_ to repair and recover from the damage he had caused. And the vulcans would be at it far longer than humanity would. No, that definitely sucked. But on a personal level?

Jim’s personal life currently  _ rocked _ !

It had scared the shit out of him at first. Having Spock damn near  _ kill _ him like that. Like everyone always said he would. But knowing the circumstances behind it definitely helped. And Spock had  _ apologized _ too! Not that he should’ve, Jim had totally been at fault for that whole fiasco. But still… it was nice. 

And it hadn’t stopped there.

Spock had gone out of his way to make sure that Jim didn’t feel hemmed in or pressured. He had no problem pushing Jim as a captain, but when it came to their relationship Spock made it very clear that  _ Jim _ set the pace. And it went a long way towards settling Jim’s nerves. 

Spock wouldn’t take what Jim wasn’t willing to give him. 

They had gone on a few dates since they’d gotten back to earth. Mostly dinner and a movie, though Jim had taken Spock to a couple museums he enjoyed. He couldn’t be absolutely certain, but he thought Spock had had fun too. He wanted to take him to the aquarium, Spock had never been, but he was saving that for a special occasion once Bones had joined them. 

Jim smiled at his soulmate across the picnic blanket.

It had been Leonard’s idea to take Spock for a sunset picnic on the beach, and Jim had to admit the idea had been a good one. Bones was as gruff as they came, but inside he was a big softy. And apparently a closet romantic. Who knew? And Jim kind of wished he had a camera, because no one would  _ ever _ believe him if he tried to describe Spock in a t-shirt with the cuffs of his pants rolled up to his knees and his bare sandy feet stretched out towards the surf not too far away. The whole image burnished by the setting sun on the waves.

“Jim?”

“Hm? What?” Jim shook his wandering thoughts back into order.

Spock seemed almost pensive. It set Jim on edge, vulcans didn’t do pensive. Spock looked at the coal black mark that coated his hand, and closed it. “Jim… May I ask a question?”

“Um… sure?”

“Your mark paled frequently for a period of three years in an ever elongating pattern. Said pattern leads me to believe that you were not ill, as illnesses are not so strictly regimented. May I ask what…?”

Oh.

Oh no.

No.

Ice trickled through Jim's core.

Jim threw up every wall he had to defend himself from memories he wished he could erase. He was shutting down. 

He didn’t want to. 

Didn’t want to hurt Spock’s feelings. Or worse, scare him away. But he couldn’t talk about this. Not  _ now _ , not  _ yet _ . He wasn’t  _ ready _ ! He  _ couldn’t… _ ! 

Cool knuckles gently brushed his cheek.

Jim pulled his knees close, resting his forehead on them. He tried to muffle his sniffle in his knees, but he was pretty sure that was a lost cause. Damn vulcan hearing. Those cool knuckles didn’t move away. Slowly, his fear and anxiety and pain drew back. Batted away by a calm that he  _ knew _ wasn’t his own. But he welcomed it anyway. Bizarre and violent as their meeting had been, he was learning to trust Spock.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to cause you pain. You do not have to speak of it if you do not wish to.”

Jim forced words up out of a too tight throat. “It’s ok Spock. You’ve got a right to know. I bet I scared the shit out of both of you when you were kids.”

Spock pricked up his ears, this was the first time Jim had ever mentioned their third. But Jim wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t face him. Spock could feel  _ fear _ and  _ shame _ and  _ self loathing _ running in a slow, deep current under Jim’s skin. Whatever had happened, it was _very_ bad. 

Not for the first time the vulcan found himself wishing, illogically, that he could have done something to spare his T’hy’la this pain.

“...I’m not ready Spock.” Jim whispered. “And I am  _ way _ too sober. I haven’t told either of you yet. If I’m going to take a stroll down memory lane, then I only want to do it once. And I want to be  _ drunk as a skunk _ when I do it, because it is going to  _ hurt _ .” 

_ I want you two to get along before I scare you both away. It’s going to hurt like hell when you both walk away. I don’t want you two to be alone too. _

The thought hadn’t been intended for Spock, but he heard it anyway.

Carefully, Spock drew Jim into his arms. His T’hy’la went willingly enough, though he shivered when Spock’s fingers ghosted over the leather that protected his marks. “I can wait.” He promised. “No matter the demons of your past, I assure you, they will  _ not _ affect your future. Not where I am concerned. Nor I suspect, where our third is concerned. We will not abandon you Jim. We will not think less of you for what you have endured. You are safe. And we will keep you that way….you are not alone.”

Jim wrapped his arms around Spock’s waist and hugged him back. “...thanks Spock…”

They watched the sunset, wrapped in each other.

Both silently wishing their third was there, to make them all complete.

* * *

 

 

Leonard knew something had happened as soon as Jim got home.

Jim called a soft greeting, but his smile was too tight. There was sand still sticking to his clothes, and the cuffs of his pants were a little damp. Guess the beach idea he’d jokingly pitched had actually happened. But Vulcans were from a desert planet, maybe Spock had a problem with being  _ that _ close to that  _ much _ water? That would certainly put a damper on date night. Had he botched things up for them with his stupid idea?

Len set his padd aside and gave his soulmate his full and undivided attention. “Jim? Everything alright?”

Jim dropped his picnic basket and came to flop down onto the couch. “Spock asked.”

Leonard’s eyebrows jumped up. That was new. After that first conversation in sickbay, Spock had never once pressed for more information about his third. In a way, Leonard sort of admired his patience. And his ability to trust that his soulmate  _ would _ come to him when they were ready. So what was this now…? 

“About me?”

Jim shook his head, slumping over even further to put his head in Len’s lap. “...about my mark paling.”

Oh.

_ Oh _ . No wonder Jim was wound tighter than a clock spring.

“...an’ how did that go?”

“...if it weren’t for that ‘vulcan hoodoo’ thing he does I think I might’ve been two seconds from a meltdown right there on the frigging beach.”

“That good huh?”

Jim huffed, leaning into the fingers that had begun carding through his hair. “I think I scared him a little. I don’t think expected me to react like that. He hasn’t said anything since that first day. I wasn’t expecting him to just  _ ask _ about it out of the blue… Bones? How come you’ve never asked?”

There was a loaded question if ever he’d heard one.

Leonard sighed, leaning back in his seat. “For one, I ain’t nobody’s fool. That first night was sort of a tip off that you had a nasty past. One you weren’t particularly  _ keen _ to talk about. And after bein’ shut down faster than a hare with a hound on his ass when I asked you about your family or your home town, it didn’t take a genius to figure out you weren’t ready to talk about  _ any _ of your past. And for two…” He leveled Jim with a steady look. “Jim, I’m a  _ doctor _ , and so was my pa. Growin’ up, it was pretty obvious that you weren’t getting sick, the spacing on your mark going pale was too regular for that. The human body’s an incredible machine, but one thing it’s not is  _ punctual _ as a god damn  _ clock _ . Your mark paling was. Even when it started to spread out, it didn’t do it in fits and starts. It was gradual and measured.”

He lightly unbuckled Jim’s collar, and laid his hand over his mark on the back of Jim’s neck. The familiar warmth slowly spread up his arm and through his chest. The way Jim relaxed, he knew Jim could feel it too. 

“...an for three? Like I said, I’m a  _ doctor _ . The scars roped up an’ down your back tell a tale all their own. Not to mention the  _ rest _ of you. I know  _ someone _ was hurting you, not some _ thing _ . And I could probably give a pretty good guess about what  _ kind _ of hurt you were getting based on scars alone. But I know if I push, you’ll bolt. So we’ll do what we’ve always done. We’ll take it slow, an’ we’ll take everything else as it comes. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be right here waiting with a bottle of bourbon. I get the feeling this’s gonna be one of  _ those _ kind a talks.”

Jim gave a wet little giggle. “See, this is why I love you.” he mumbled.

The two lapsed into companionable silence, Len carding his fingers through Jim’s hair while Jim slowly drifted off to sleep. The doctor quietly retrieved his padd, intending on finishing his reading.

“...Bones?”

“Hm?”

“You can’t hide from Spock forever. You know that right?”

Len sighed. “Yeah. I know. But I’ll be damned if I know where his mark is or how to get at it. An’ somehow I don’t think he’s gonna believe me without the mark. I figured it out by the way, why he hasn’t figured out I’m your third? Heard Nyota bitching to Christine about it. Christine asked if Spock was  _ sure _ I wasn’t your other soulmate, seein’ as how I’m your roommate and best friend. Nyota blew her off. Said Spock had considered it, but I only have one mark, am married and have a daughter.  _ Clearly _ off the market. Not sure why the hobgoblin doesn’t know I’m divorced, but stranger things’ve happened. And he’s right, I do technically only have one mark, so ya can’t blame him there. They were trying to compile a list of people that you see a lot of. Apparently Nyota is gettin’ damn sick an’ tired of Spock moping over scaring his second soulmate off before he even got to meet them. And she’s gettin’ even  _ more _ fedup with his refusal to actively look for them. If he put his mind to it, he could probably find me. She’s certain of it.”

“She’s probably right.” Jim agreed. “He’s so fucking  _ smart _ Bones. Narrowing down the list of surviving crew until he found our soulmate would take time, but he could do it. And he’d probably do it faster than anyone else ever could.” He nuzzled into Leonard’s belly sleepily. “And his mark’s on his side. Right where his heart is. Saw it when his shirt rode up…”

The blond finally drifted off.

Leonard grumpily went back to his padd. Coming from a desert planet, Spock always wore at least two layers.  _ More _ if the weather was nippy. 

How in the sam hill was Leonard supposed to get at Spock’s mark  _ there _ ?!

* * *

 

 

Ironically, it would be easier than he thought.

You could’ve knocked Jim over with a feather when he received his orders and found out that they were upholding his field promotion. They were giving him the Enterprise.  _ Him _ ! The selfsame student that they’d wanted to  _ throw out of Starfleet _ ! And they  _ gave him _ the Enterprise! 

The news came as a surprise to exactly no one else, anywhere.

Six months after the Nerada incident, Leonard McCoy once again found himself following his soulmate onto a flying death trap and letting himself get hurtled through space. Except this time around he had  _ two _ of them! And they were  _ both _ self sacrificing idiots bound and determined to kill themselves in new and interesting ways! He was going to have a coronary well before his time because of them. He was certain of it! There was absolutely no excuse for this many near death experiences on  _ milk runs _ for god’s sakes!

And today was no different.

The admiralty had tasked them with responding to a distress call from a small colony. It had read like a simple equipment failure. The machines they used to draw water up to the surface had broken down, and they didn’t have the parts to fix it. The Enterprise was supposed to show up and have Scotty fix the machines and give them spare parts so they could do preventative maintenance. Hopefully it wouldn’t get this bad next time. The Enterprise would make sure the  _ rest _ of the colony was in good working order, and if it was they’d call it a day. Period. End of sentence. 

Is that the way this mission was going?

Hell no.

Some hare brained idiot had been _sure_ they could fix it with jury-rigged parts and had _blown_ _up_ the god damned machine… right as the Enterprise team was _beaming_ _down_.

Because fate  _ loved _ to make the crew of the Enterprise  _ bleed _ .

* * *

 

Leonard didn’t know _what_ had hit him, 

But he knew he was going to hit it back as soon as his ears stopped ringing! He could vaguely hear shouting somewhere nearby. But it was muted and fuzzy, the ringing eclipsing all else. Someone grabbed his shoulder and shook it roughly. Right, he hadn’t moved yet. Might want to get on that. 

Len groaned, slowly pushing himself upright.

Dust choked the air. Or maybe that was ash? Whatever, he didn’t care. The air was full of shit and was probably going to give them all lung cancer. That’d be a bitch to fix. Not impossible, but a bitch just the same. Bits and pieces of charred and twisted machinery were strewn across the rocky ground. Great. Lots of little pieces of metal to cut people up. So lacerations, shrapnel wounds, and possibly alien bacteria and infections. Add those to the damn list of things to watch out for. 

Even better. 

Why had he agreed to do this again? 

The ringing started to die down a little, and Jim calling his name filtered through. Jim, who was dusty and bruised, a cut on his forehead trailing an ominous line of red. Len reached for it, and Jim pushed his hand away.

“I’m fine.” He coughed. Yep, everyone was gonna get cancer somewhere. “It’s Spock. Bones he’s, he’s not breathing…!”

On second thought, maybe cancer and alien bacteria weren’t so bad.

Leonard scrambled past Jim. Spock was sprawled haphazardly across the ground, arms akimbo like a broken marionette. He’d been the closest to the blast. He’d probably taken the brunt of it, shielding Jim and Leonard. Green mapped out where Spock would have a spectacular set of bruises in a few hours. A darker, fluid green dripped from his nose, and from a cut under his eye. 

His chest was horrifyingly still.

“No.” Leonard whispered, his heart in his throat. 

A splash of pale green caught the doctor’s eye. Spock’s shirt had rucked up on his right side, putting his mark on clear display. Leonard’s jaw tightened. 

He fitted his hand over the mark.

“Breathe Spock.” He snarled. “You’re damn well not gonna die on me.”

Warmth flooded his hand. It zinged through his nerves and pooled in his bones. Deeper than any alcohol could ever hope to reach. Underneath work callused fingers, a vulcan heart suddenly beat strong and sure. Spock stirred, coughing as his lungs started to work again. His body  _ startled _ into function by the sudden adrenaline rush of an activating soulbond. It was faster and more effective than any adrenaline injection Len could have administered with a hypospray.

Jim scooted closer, settling Spock’s head in his lap. Spock furrowed his brow. Blinking owlishly up at his soulmate he clumsily grabbed for Jim’s hand.

“...Jim? Are you alright? I…”

Spock trailed off. His bleary eyes tracked down to his side. Down to the hand that still rested protectively over his heart. It was the source of the warm feelings of  _ safe _ and _releif_ and  _ euphoria _ that were tripping through his system, making his heart beat faster than it should. 

But why? Where had it…? 

He stared at that hand for a moment, confused by it. He had to keep it safe. It was important. He clumsily covered the callused hand with his own. Then, slowly, he dragged his eyes up the arm attached to it until he found the face it belonged to. 

“...you?”

“Me.” Len agreed. He could see Spock’s eyes already drifting closed. And it worried him. There was a trickle of green creeping down out of Spock’s hairline close to his ear. Odds were good he’d taken a crack to the head. He probably had a concussion. Len needed to get him back up to the Enterprise. He needed to get  _ all _ of them back to the Enterprise. 

He could see Scotty sitting behind Jim, and he looked just as rough as Jim did. 

The scotsman grinned when he caught Len looking at him. “Just wait till the rest find out! Ny’s been trying to find you for  _ months _ !”

Len groaned and reached for his medical bag.

Spock drifted off without another word. But he didn’t need words. The way he clung to Jim and Leonard’s hands said it all.

* * *

 

... _ It’s not creepy to watch your soulmates sleep…. _

... _ Right Len, you keep tellin’ yourself that. _

He shook his head, never taking his eyes off the two idiots in the private room of his sickbay. If it wasn’t one, it was the other. Honestly, the two had become pretty much permanent fixtures here in Leonard’s little kingdom. 

Spock had had a pretty serious concussion, just like Len knew he would before he even got him up here. It was healed now, along with all the cuts and bruises he’d gotten due to the blast. But it was a coin toss on when he’d  _ actually _ wake up. Damn hobgobliin had slipped into a “healing trance” whatever the hell that was. The vulcan healer he’d talked to on the coms hadn’t exactly been all that helpful. Only professional courtesy had stopped the frustrated doctor from saying a few choice words of his own.

Bunch of vulcan hobgoblin hoodoo.

Jim had yet to leave Spock’s side. And no one was going to make him. Least of all Leonard, because he wasn’t much better. Sulu was covering for Jim, but Len refused to ask someone to cover for him, on the grounds that he was the best damn doctor on board and his soulmate might need him. And if he was gonna be in sickbay he might as well be on duty. So he was. He puttered around dealing with the various minor injuries, most of them those idiots in engineering. And he worked on paperwork in Jim and Spock’s room when he wasn’t. 

At least the idiots in engineering were trying to behave themselves for once. Though Len suspected that was more Scotty policing the lot of them more carefully so that Leonard could focus on his soulmate, rather than any sudden outbreak of common sense.

Spock shifted.

Len sat up a little straighter. He checked readouts above the biobed, just to be safe. Everything looked good. Just like the last fifty times he’d checked it. But he still worried. 

There was still so  _ much _ about vulcan biology that he didn’t know. Though he’d been working on that pretty much every chance he got since Spock and Jim had activated. But it was tough going. Between the destruction of vulcan and the general secretiveness of the species where biology was concerned, getting information was like pulling teeth. And that wasn’t even taking Spock’s status as a hybrid into account. Truth be told, there was a very real chance that something could be wrong, and Leonard wouldn’t catch it in time because he just  _ didn’t know _ enough!

And the thought scared the ever living bejeezus out of him.

Spock stirred again. His eyelids fluttered a couple times. Finally, he seemed to decide that he wanted to be awake. Not surprisingly, the first thing he saw was Jim. The blond had nodded off a little while back. Since then, he’d sprawled out across Spock’s right hip, one arm flung haphazardly across Spock’s thighs as if they were a pillow he could cuddle closer. 

Spock sure didn’t seem miffed about it. 

Len watched in amusement as Spock traced his fingers over Jim’s forehead. He was less amused when it hit him that Spock was tracing a line where Jim’s injury had been. He was making sure Jim was alright. A second later something dawned, and his hand flew to his side. Right over where his mark was. 

Huh, so he did remember. Leonard hadn’t been sure he would, Spock had been pretty out of it at the time. 

He found himself pinned by dark eyes. 

No matter what the rest of Spock looked like, those eyes would  _ never _ be vulcan. Vulcan dark, sure. But never void of emotion. His face could be completely expressionless, but those eyes would still speak. He would’ve bet everything that they were Spock’s ma’s.  They sure as hell weren’t his pa’s.

“You...” Spock murmured. 

“Me.” Len agreed again. He picked up his tricorder and ran it over Spock again for show. “You sure you’re feelin’ alright? Seems like ‘ _ you _ ’s the only word in your vocabulary since you smacked your head down on that damn mud ball.”

Everything checked out, as well it should after all the worrying he’d done, and he set the tricorder aside.

Spock was still staring. “But… you have only one mark.”

“I do.”

“You are married, and have a daughter.”

“That one’s a long story.”

Spock cocked his head. 

Len could almost  _ see _ the word ‘ _ intriguing _ ’ playing through the vulcan’s head. Or ‘ _ fascinating _ ’. It could go either way. Those were his two fallback words when all else failed. “Well, for that matter, this whole damn mess is a long story.”

“Explain…  please.”

Leonard blinked. Spock had actually said  _ please _ . 

Well wonders never ceased! 

Least he could do was help him understand. He owed Spock that much after leaving him to wonder for months on end. Didn’t mean this jaunt down memory lane wasn’t going to suck though.

Len sighed and settled further into his seat. “Always had just the one mark. Never thought anything of it. Coming out of high school, I met a pretty little thing named Jacquelyn Taylor. I was young an’ stupid. Thought I knew everythin’ there was to know, just like every other teenager since the dawn a time. Swore up and down I was in love. So I married her. Finished medical school. Had a little girl… Much as I might hate everything that happened between me and Jacquelyn, who is my  _ ex _ -wife by the way, we’ve been separated for years now Spock... I can’t say as I’ll ever really regret it. Jacquelyn made my life a living hell, but my daughter Joanna’s worth every bit of pain an’ heartbreak I went through. And I could never wish her away.” 

He shrugged self consciously. “Marriage went belly up. No surprise there, though the timing could’ve been better. The ex took pretty much everything in the divorce, including Joanna. Bout the only thing she didn’t get was my bones and my medical license. I had nowhere else to go. Starfleet seemed as good a place as any. Got on the shuttle at Riverside Shipyards. Ended up sitting next to a blond haired, blue eyed, mouthy little shit.” 

Spock’s lips twitched with amusement. “I believe the human phrase is ‘some things never change’.”

“Got that right. We ended up roommates.” Len reached across Spock’s lap to card his fingers through Jim’s hair. The sleeping blond hummed and leaned into the touch. Len’s smile turned sad. “Months later, I’m up late studying, and my roommate starts screamin’ like he’s being murdered. He was having a nightmare. And when he woke up from that he went straight into the mother of all panic attacks. Imagine my surprise when I tried to help him and my mark  _ activated _ !”

Spock traced elegant fingers over the collar on Jim’s neck. A bit of black could just be seen peeking over the edge where Len’s thumb had rested. “That still begs the question of how you could belong to both of us, when you only have one mark.”

“I touched the pair of you with the same hand Spock. That’s how. Whenever I touched your mark on Jim, mine’d go pink to match it. I’ve never heard of anything like it. But then again, triads are damn rare in and of themselves. And they’ve never included multiple species before. What we’ve got here between the three of us? It’s something new… any other questions, while I’m in a sharing type of mood?” 

Spock hesitated. “Why did you wait so long to reveal yourself?”

“Ain’t that the big one.” Len muttered. “... you know I spent years planning out the ass-chewing I was going to give you for trying to strangle Jim? Started that first day, when I realized what that second mark meant. Thought for sure you were going to be the devil’s own. And then Jim up and finds  _ you _ , and things aren’t near as clean cut as I thought they’d be. So I took a step back. And I waited to see what you’d do. And the more I saw? Well… the more I saw, the more I approved. Question was, how was I supposed to prove it to you? Your second mark isn’t exactly the easiest to spot, let alone get to. Today was the first chance I had. Good thing too, the adrenaline dump from activating your mark jump started your heart and got you breathing again.”

He shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “Plus, it wouldn't hurt for you to spend time with Jim one on one. He needed to know that you were safe. That he could trust you. If I’d jumped in right away, your attention would’ve always been split between the pair of us. It just made sense.” He leveled a firm glare at Spock. “I  _ didn’t _ stay away because I was scared of you, or disgusted by you, or any other nasty little theories you might’ve conjured up. I stayed away because you had to sort things out with Jim.”

“Softy.” Jim muttered from his place against Spock’s hip.

“Brat.” Len flicked Jim’s ear. It earned him a childish whine. “How long you been listening?”

“Nuh uh. Not telling... Might go back to sleep actually, I’m pretty comfortable here.” He tightened his hold across Spock’s thighs and nuzzled contentedly into his hip. “Only way I’m moving is if you clear him, and I can drag you  _ both _ back to bed. I’m tired of sleeping with just one of you.”

Both of his soulmates gave him a look.

“... that came out wrong.”

Leonard snickered. “Yah think?”

Jim groaned and dropped his head back down on Spock’s hips. “You’re an ass. No sex tonight Len, that’s not what I meant. I know you don’t work like that. I just want to cuddle up with my soulmates and call it a day. Is that too much to ask?” His voice took on a wheedling tone. “If you and Spock aren’t comfortable with each other yet, you can throw me in the middle. I don’t mind. I won’t even hog the blankets.  _ Honest _ .” 

Len didn’t believe him in the slightest. “Uh huh. In a pig’s eye you will. You better watch out Spock. This one shamelessly steals all the blankets in the middle of the night and heartlessly leaves you to catch your death of cold. And he does it  _ every _ night. You’ll freeze your pointy ears off if you’re not careful.”

“If such a warning is warranted, then I take it I am to be discharged from sickbay?”

“Yeah, you’re clear to leave. You’ve  _ been _ clear to leave for some time, but you were in that hoodoo healing trance of yours. You’re clear now, I just have to fill out the paperwork. Shouldn’t take me more’n a couple minutes. Then we can all hit the sack.” Pointing a finger at Spock, he added, “And just to be  _ clear _ Commander, you’re  _ discharged _ . But you’re  _ still _ on medical leave. I don’t want to see you back on the bridge for at  _ least _ twenty-four hours, you understand?”

Spock raised one slanted eyebrow. “I thought you said I was ‘clear’.”

“Yeah, and you were  _ dead _ earlier today! Shut up and do what I tell you to. Take tomorrow off and get some rest. You and Jim work yourselves into the damn ground anyway.” Len scooped up his padd and settled down to do his paperwork.

Jim and Spock must’ve been more tired than he thought, because they were both quiet while he finished filling out Spock’s discharge from sickbay. As soon as he was done, he shepherded his two soulmates out of sickbay and up to Jim’s quarters.

* * *

 

 

Spock looked around curiously.

He hadn’t been in Jim’s personal quarters since they first launched, and at that time Jim had yet to unpack. Looking around now, it was abundantly clear that two people were cohabiting in these quarters. 

Jim’s paper books were neatly stacked on the shelves with various souvenirs from different portions of Earth. Most appeared to be from the United States, but there were iconic landmarks from other countries too. Holo-pics of people he didn’t know and childish artworks hung on the walls in simple frames. The artwork was most likely that of Leonard’s daughter. Some form of terran plant in a pot sat on a dresser. Another hung from a hook set in the ceiling. Jim had never expressed an interest in plants, quite the opposite in fact. So those were likely Leonard’s. A guitar hung on the wall near the bedroom. It was worn but well cared for. ‘Well loved’ as his mother would’ve said. Not just a decoration then, and he could see the case under the couch. Other cases too, but not in shapes he recognized. He wondered which of his soulmates played. 

He wondered if a human guitar would pair well with a vulcan harp. 

Perhaps the biggest tip offs were the command gold and medical blue uniform shirts laying around, and he could see two different sizes of standard issue boots against the wall. 

“Like what you see?”

He glanced at Jim. The past several months had done a lot to further his understanding of Jim’s moods and body language. Jim was shifting a little, eyes intent on Spock. Waiting for his verdict. Spock glanced at the room again, and his eyes lit on the chess set on the table. 

“Indeed. You play chess?”

Len kicked off his boots. “Jim plays. I’m more of a checkers man, but I can play if I wanna. Hope you play better’n I do, Jim needs a challenge. Go on over through the fresher and grab your pajamas Spock. Lord knows we’re not going anywhere.”

“I should hope not. I will return shortly.”

When Spock returned it was to find his two soulmates already dressed for bed. Jim was buried in Leonard’s chest, just wrapped up in his soulmate as much as possible. Leonard was combing his fingers through Jim’s hair, eyes half lidded and a smile pressed against Jim’s temple. He looked content. It was an unusual look for him, but not unbecoming. Spock found himself hoping that he would be able to see more of that look. He hoped he could someday  _ provoke _ that look

Jim caught sight of Spock, and held out an arm for him. 

“Come on Spock. I don’t know about you, but I’m bushed.” 

Leonard snorted when Spock hesitated. “Get your ass over here hobgoblin, I’m not waiting on you.”

Spock allowed himself to be pulled along into the bedroom by the sleeve. Jim had always been considerate of Spock’s telepathy. It pleased him to find that Leonard was equally so.

A third pillow had already been added to the bunk. And an absurd number of blankets had been stacked at the foot of the bed, in addition to the blankets already covering it. It confused him at first, until he remembered Leonard’s warning about Jim being a ‘blanket hog’. 

“Take the wall side. Bones needs to be on the outside in case there’s a medical emergency. And I’ve got dibs on the middle.” Jim mumbled. The long day was finally catching up with him.

Sharing an amused glance with Leonard, Spock allowed himself to be pushed into the bed by their sleepy captain. Jim crawled in right behind him and wrapped himself around Spock like the world’s cuddliest octopus. 

Spock held his arms up out of the way.

Jim had become increasingly affectionate over the past several months, but this was new. What was acceptable? Were there boundaries? 

Jim nuzzled into Spock’s collar bone. “Spock. You’re overthinking it.” A shot of  _ unease _ washed through Jim, and he gave Spock a worried look. “Unless… Am I making you uncomfortable? I could face Len…?”

A soft sigh whispered past Spock’s lips, and he put his arms around Jim. “I am not discomforted. This is new, and I confess to some uncertainty. But I do not wish you to cease.”

“...okay?”

Leonard climbed into the bed behind Jim. “Means you surprised him, and he’s not sure what to do with you but he’s okay with it. Budge over Jim, and try not to freeze Spock out his first night. There’s blankets at the end of the bed for when he does Spock.”

“Mmm…” Jim hummed sleepily and nuzzled against Spock’s collar bone. “Y’know ‘m tired when I can’t decode th’ Spock speak an’more…” His words drifted off, and his eyes drifted closed. He was asleep in seconds, while his soulmates looked on in amusement.

“Is he always so quick to sleep?” Spock whispered.

“Naw, not usually. He was up pretty early this morning, and after those shenanigans planet-side he ain’t left your side since.” Leonard looped an arm around Jim’s waist and molded himself to Jim’s back. “Enjoy the warmth while it lasts. He’ll steal the blankets about two or three a.m.”

Leonard called for the computer to get the lights, and the room plunged into darkness.

Spock lay still, and listened. Jim’s breathing was already slow and deep, and Leonard’s was getting there. He could just barely make out their shapes. The steady rise and fall of their bodies in the dark. With his arms wrapped around Jim, and Leonard molded to Jim’s back, Spock’s hand was trapped between Jim’s back and Leonard’s chest.

He could feel them.

Their hearts beat in tandem against his palm and the back of his hand. Almost in sync. From Jim, he sensed nothing but the comforting grey warmth of a quiet sleep. From Leonard, he got  _ content _ and  _ protectiveness _ and  _ affection _ . Likely centered on Jim, Leonard didn’t yet know Spock well enough to feel those things towards him. But it pleased Spock to feel those things from Leonard for Jim. To know that Jim had that support from someone who truly loved him…

A hand slid up under Spock’s pajama top.

It settled on his mark, a magnet clicking into place.

Warmth bloomed under a calloused hand. It swept through Spock’s muscles and seeped into his bones. It set his heart racing, and then calmed it just as quickly. He lifted his head, peering over Jim’s shoulder. 

“Welcome home Spock.” Leonard whispered, and settled into sleep.

Laying there in the dark, wrapped up in his soulmates and that irresistible warmth rolling through his body, Spock couldn’t help but realize he was right. Spock was ‘home’. He was on a ship that he loved, and that challenged and accepted him for what he was. He was surrounded by friends that he loved and respected, and who respected him in turn. He had found the missing two pieces of his soul, and he had no intention of letting them go.

_ Home is where your heart is. You’ll find home someday Spock. _

His mother had been wiser than he knew. His heart was here, aboard the Enterprise. It had been ever since that first day. And it would follow these two men wherever they led.

He  _ was _ home.

He was  _ home _ .

* * *

 


	5. Already Falling: Might As Well Do A Flip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Squints through binoculars) "...Ahoy there! Fluff dead ahead!"
> 
> Well, some angst and irritation to, but mostly just our boys being cute and getting to know each other. Enjoy!

* * *

Spock was distracted.

You’d never know it to look at him, Jim mused as he watched him from the corner of his eye. It was hard to do while sitting in the captain’s chair, but it was possible if you did it right. He’d perfected the art of catching sight of his vulcan surreptitiously. And today it was paying off. If you knew where to  _ look _ . If you knew what you were looking  _ for _ … well then it got pretty obvious. Jim was still learning the ticks and quirks of his newest soulmate. Ideally, he had the rest of his life to learn all the ins and outs of his two favorite puzzles. To really  _ understand _ them. But for now? This?

This he’d already decoded.

Spock was  _ distracted _ as  _ fuck _ .

He looked down at his pad and silently drew up a minimized window in one corner. Flicking through the various contacts and department heads, he selected Spock and drafted a new message. The contact name never failed to bring a little smile, even if he was the only one who could see the name he’d assigned his first officer. He re-read the message once, just to be sure, then fired it off and waited for Spock to drag his attention back from wherever it had wandered.

 

**_Leader Of The Pack:_ ** _ Something eating you? _

 

It didn’t take long. 

 

**_Subtle Sass Master:_ ** _ There is nothing currently trying to consume me Captain. To what does your query refer? _

 

See? Sassy little shit. 

Jim had to restrain a snicker and only managed it through sheer willpower. It wouldn’t do to draw attention today. Uhura had been sending him  _ looks _ for months now because he wouldn’t spill who his other soulmate was, and the  _ look _ she’d directed his way this morning when he’d set foot on the bridge had been off the charts! Better to lay low for now until things had settled down a little. 

He drafted a new reply and shot it off.

 

**_Leader Of The Pack:_ ** _ Something is on your mind, don’t be obtuse about it. Tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help. _

 

A thought struck him, and he couldn’t suppress his grin this time.

 

**_Leader Of The Pack:_ ** _ Any chance it has something to do with a cranky brunette down in sickbay? _

 

Jim hid a grin in his hand when he saw Spock stiffen ever so slightly. Ha! Success! Spock was thinking about Bones. The grin faded just as quickly, because Spock didn’t exactly look happy. 

To be fair, he only ever really looked like  _ anything _ when they were alone or when a reaction had been  _ startled _ out of him. And Jim absolutely  _ loved _ doing  _ that _ . He’d made it his mission in life to startle anything and everything out of him. Smiles, laughter, what-the-fuck expressions. Anything goes. He’d only gotten the absolute  _ tiniest _ smiles from Spock so far, nothing so overt as a laugh, but he’d get it eventually! 

Still, let the record show that Spock’s non-expression did not look precisely happy at the mention of their charming southern doctor.

 

**_Leader Of The Pack:_ ** _ You activated with your second soulmate just yesterday, you’re allowed to be a little off your game Spock. _

 

**_Subtle Sass Master:_ ** _ That is not the cause of my difficulty. _

 

**_Leader Of The Pack:_ ** _ What is it then? _

 

**_Subtle Sass Master:_ ** _ I took the time to get to know you personally. I wish to afford Leonard the same courtesy. However, I am … uncertain as to how one should approach him.  _

 

Ah. 

Yeah, Bones could be a little daunting. 

It made Jim grin like an idiot though, knowing that Spock wanted to take Bones out for a date and was getting the jitters trying to figure out how to go about it. Thinking about the ideas and support Bones had tossed his way during the months after the Nerada incident, Jim felt a growing excitement at realizing he was now on the flip side.

 

**_Subtle Sass Master:_ ** _ It also concerns me that I will not adequately see to your emotional needs while pursuing Leonard. _

 

Oh.

Yeah, fuck no, that was going to die a quick and painful death. 

Like hell he was going to let Spock start guilt tripping himself thinking he wasn’t doing enough for his soulmates, or that spending time with just one would be neglecting the other. Sure, they needed to do things as a group. But people also needed one-on-one time with their significant other, and everyone needed time to themselves at some point. Jim was more than capable of keeping himself entertained. Spock had nothing to worry about. 

But how to make him understand that?

 

**_Leader Of The Pack:_ ** _ You won’t be neglecting me or whatever it is you’re thinking Spock. Having that time alone to connect with you is important, but so is having time alone to sort myself out. Sort of like when you meditate. You take the time to just be alone and do something for yourself. I won’t feel left out. In fact I’d be tickled pink knowing someone else is loving up on him. The grouch  _ needs _ more people loving on him. _

 

**_Subtle Sass Master:_ ** _ … I am beginning to understand that being soulmated to you and Leonard is going to be an exercise in colloquialisms. _

 

Jim smothered a snicker.

 

**_Leader Of The Pack:_ ** _ Southern colloquialisms for Bones, midwest and pop culture references with me. You’re definitely gonna have your work cut out for you. _

 

**_Leader Of The Pack:_ ** _ Then again, so are we, you come from a whole other planet and speak a completely different language. There’s bound to be some things that’ll be “lost in translation” somewhere along the way.  _

 

For several minutes there was nothing. 

Jim let him be, wading through some of his paperwork while he waited. There was far too much of it in his opinion. Seriously, science said that a star ship was powered by dilithium crystals, but Jim was pretty damn sure that they actually ran off of all the paperwork he had to fill out  _ in triplicate _ . How that worked, he wasn’t sure, but it did. No one would ever convince him otherwise. Somehow all of that digital paperwork was fed into the engines and it made the engines go. 

Science could kiss his ass.

An image of Spock’s face if he’d heard him say that flashed through his head and Jim almost dropped his pad in his haste to stifle his giggles. It resulted in an inelegant snort that drew the baleful look of his communications officer.

He ducked his head and drafted another message.

 

**_Leader Of The Pack:_ ** _ Look, Spock, Bones is like a pitbull. He’s got a reputation and a big bark, and he’s protective as fuck, but he’s a big softie. And he already cares about you. You’ve got nothing to worry about. _

 

**_Leader Of The Pack:_ ** _ You wanna get to know him? How bout this... _

* * *

 

 

By morning, the whole ship was aware of what had occurred.

And yet they  _ still _ insisted on coming up and asking if it was true! Fact checking the rumor mill at the source was one thing, but this was bordering on ridiculous! Were they going to have to issue a shipwide memo just so they could get something done without interruptions?!

Leonard grouched and grumbled to himself as he moved through his sickbay. He, Spock, and Jim had gotten the question at least  _ six _ times before they’d even made it to breakfast in the mess hall! Jim had laughed and joked, and Spock had logically confirmed. Len was convinced he was gonna tear the head off of the next poor fool who asked. He’d been waylaid a further eight times by various individuals between the mess hall and sickbay. Christ, the gossip on this ship was worse than being in a small town!

Christine had taken one look at his thunderous expression when he’d arrived for his shift and wisely not commented on the new twist in her commanding officers’ love lives. 

The rest of the day had gone downhill from there. 

The idiots down in engineering were in rare form today. Probably making up for being on their best behavior while Spock was trying to up and die on him.  The steady flow of boneheaded engineers had slowed down now, so apparently word had spread that the chief medical officer was also in rare form and in no mood to deal with them.

Now it was almost noon, and yet another headache was staring him right in the face.

Nyota raised an eyebrow, daring him to tell her to leave. She wouldn’t listen anyway, and they both knew it. So he didn’t even bother to try. Truth be told, he was surprised it had taken her this long to come after him. He caught Christine’s eye, and she gave him a quick nod. She could handle sick bay, and she knew where he’d be if she couldn’t. 

Leonard led her back to his office and she closed the door behind her. 

He sighed tiredly and perched a hip on his desk. “Go ahead, let me have it with both barrels.”

Fury flashed across her face. “You left it for months.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

It wasn’t the answer she wanted, and it just pissed her off further. “ _ Eight months _ McCoy!  _ Eight _ ! You left him alone for eight months without a word! Do you  _ know _ how much you  _ hurt _ him?! His mother dies, his planet is destroyed, and he almost  _ killed _ his soulmate. And then his  _ other _ soulmate won’t even talk to him?! Won’t come anywhere  _ near _ him, let him see him? Won’t even let him know his  _ name _ ?! You couldn’t have hurt him worse if you ripped his heart out of his side! And he  _ still _ wouldn’t go looking because he  _ respected _ you too much to violate your choice like that. I spent months trying to find out who his other soulmate was because he was so miserable. You  _ knew _ I was looking. And you never said a damn word! I’m not surprised at Jim, I expect this sort of idiocy from him. But  _ damn _ it Leonard! I expected better from you!” 

“Well I’m sorry to disappoint you!” Len snapped right back, stress and the late night previous shortening his temper down into the dregs of his patience.

“That’s it? ‘Sorry to disappoint you’? Eight months of lying to your soulmate and  _ that’s _ the best you can come up with?!” Her face was dark with fury, eyes snapping dangerously. One wrong move and she’d take his head clean off. “You aren’t fit to be his soulmates. Neither of you are. He’s the kindest, strongest person I’ve ever met, and he deserves  _ better _ than a pair of complete and utter  _ bastards _ who leave him to suffer for eight months because they’re  _ scared _ !”

“I’m  _ not _ scared of Spock!”

“Then what word would you pick?” She yelled right back. “Terrified? Frightened? Petrified? It doesn’t matter what word you use Leonard, the result is still the same. You were  _ scared _ , and you put your head in the sand like an ostrich!”

“THAT IS ENOUGH!”

Len and Nyota froze.

Spock stood in the doorway, a  tray of food in hand. Their hearts both ached at the realization that there were two sets of dishes on the tray. He’d been bringing Leonard lunch. The door slid shut behind him, the soft  _ shush _ the only sound as he set the tray on a side table. Dark eyes pinned the pair of them in place, and he folded his hands behind his back.

“That is enough.” he reiterated more calmly. “Nyota. While I appreciate your concern, and your willingness to protect me, attacking my t’hy’la will not improve the matter.”

Nyota’s jaw clenched. Shooting one final glare at Len, she marched for the door.

“Ny.”

The woman froze at Leonard’s call, shoulders stiff.

“You ever seen Jim when he works out?”

She turned around to arch an eyebrow at him. “No. I don’t make it a habit to ogle my captain.” She growled.

Leonard ignored the retort, shoulders slumped and eyes tired. “Take a look next time, just don’t get caught staring. Boy’s got more scars on his back than even I know what to do with. He won’t let me take them away… Somewhere, a long time ago, someone hurt him. Hurt him so bad that our marks  _ paled _ . And they did it again and again. When I finally found Jim…”

Len shook his head, eyes burning a little at the memories of his and Jim’s early days. “You know he was so damn  _ scared _ of me he wouldn’t even sit on the same  _ couch _ as me? There were days were he had to have a piece of furniture between us at all times. Like he thought I’d all of a sudden lunge at him or something. We’d been rooming together for a year when we activated! He  _ knew _ I wouldn’t hurt ‘im, but he had to learn it all over again. I still don’t know what happened before, to make him so scared of his soulmates. And neither does Spock. But given how he activated with Spock, he didn’t exactly have a reason to trust him. He had to learn. And I would’ve only been in the way.” 

His jaw was tight, hands gripping the edge of his desk. “So I took a step back. I supported Jim, and let Spock win Jim’s trust on his own, because I knew he was strong enough to stand on his own. And patient enough to get past the walls Jim puts up to protect himself. Never thought it’d take this long, but Jim can be a stubborn ass when he’s got a mind to… You’re a good friend Ny, and Jim and I are ecstatic that Spock’s got someone like you pulling for him… But don’t ever presume you know what’s goin’ on unless you’ve walked a mile in our shoes.”

“Len…”

He shook his head. “Out Ny. We’ll talk it out later when we’ve both calmed down. And Nyota? What I said ‘bout Jim’s scars and hang ups doesn’t leave this room. I’ll not have ‘im turned into fodder for the ship’s rumor mill.”

Nyota slipped out without another word, wise enough to recognize when she’d overstepped, and to know that now was not the time to address it. The door swished shut behind her, blanketing the room in tense silence. 

Spock edged closer. “Leonard. I apologize for the intrusion. Nyota is a valued friend, and I have always trusted her as my confidant. But I never believed she would go so far as to attack one of you, verbally or otherwise…”

The doctor tiredly waved the apology off. “It’s alright Spock. It was shit, the way we handled it, and she’s got every right to be angry with us because she took up the slack. Am I right?”

Green tinged Spock’s cheeks.

“That’s what I thought. And it’s ok to reach out to your friends when you’re hurting, we’re not angry about it. Like I said, we were just glad you had someone you were comfortable reaching out to.” He dropped his face in his hands, his next words muffled but understandable. “It was a shit hand all around, but I didn’t know what else to do. You and Jim had to sort your shit out by yourselves. And once you had, for the life of me I couldn’t spot your mark…”

Cautiously, Spock placed his hands on Leonard’s shoulders.

Leonard sighed and leaned into him, accepting the comfort he offered. “I’m sorry Spock. I’m sorry this whole thing got so fouled up.”

Spock shook his head. He carefully pulled Leonard fully into an embrace. The doctor wrapped his arms around his soulmate’s middle, and Spock held him tighter in response. After a moment’s hesitation, Len put his hand over Spock’s mark. It wasn’t the same as having skin to skin contact. And a part of him would’ve liked nothing better than to shove his hand under Spock’s pristine uniform and seal his hand over that mark just to feel the warmth the soulbond infused in them. But somehow, he wasn’t sure Spock would appreciate that outside of their quarters. Still, this was fine. It was soothing, to feel that strong heartbeat under his hand, even through multiple layers.

Spock’s voice was a rumble under Leonard’s ear when he spoke. “You did what you thought was best. I cannot, I will not, fault you for that. As it is, it would seem that fate had other plans for us. As you said yourself, activating my mark saved my life. If you had activated it sooner…”

“...we might’a lost you.” Len finished. “As if Jim an’ I’d let you go that easy. We would’ve found a way... Doesn’t mean we don’t feel like shit though for letting you stew for eight months like we did.” He sat back, looking up at Spock before his eyes drifted to the tray he’d brought. His lips quirked up a little. “... if I’d known this was gonna be a lunch date I’d of gussied up a little.”

Spock’s cheeks tinged slightly green. “It was Jim’s suggestion. I wish to court you, as I courted him. To understand you. However, there are so few opportunities on board a ship… I am afraid you and I will have to ‘make do’ with what is available until our next shore leave.”

“It’s alright Spock. I never was one for a lot of fancy winin’ and dinin’. This’ll suit me right down to the ground. Come on, grab the tray and bring it over here. We can talk while we eat.”

Reluctantly, Spock let go of his soulmate and fetched the tray from its place by the door. Leonard had pulled the chairs so that they were closer to each other, and he’d gone to the small replicator set in his wall for drinks. It wasn’t like the ones in the cafeteria. It was barely able to manage drinks, or basic soups and sandwiches. If he wanted something better, warmer, he’d have to fetch it from the cafeteria. Most of the time he was too busy to bother. Spock’s offering was a nice change of pace.

Leonard brought back two tall glasses, one of apple juice, the other sweet iced tea. He didn’t bother to hide his amusement when he finally saw what Spock had brought. 

“Jim sure gave you the lowdown, huh?”

The green that had been fading from Spock’s cheeks came back full force, and Len couldn’t help but feel smug about it. The blush reached his pointy hobgoblin ears this time.

Spock set the bowls in front of the correct chairs and put the tray aside. “Somewhat. However, you often shared meals with us, and I had noticed your preferences for specific foods. As you order this meal more often than any other, logically, it may be deduced that it is a favorite. Have I erred?”

“No. No, you did good. Chili’s one a’ my favorite comfort foods.” He pulled the bowl closer, and he knew he was smiling like a damn fool when steam wafted up from the bowl. A second bowl held biscuits, and he snagged one of those to dip directly into the chili. “Thanks Spock. ‘Preciate this.”

Spock settled down to his own meal of plomeek soup. If Len didn’t know better, he’d say that was what a happy vulcan looked like. “You are most welcome Leonard.”

The doctor chuffed in amusement. “Least you’ll call me by my given name once in a while. It’ll be a nice change of pace. Not that I mind bein’ called ‘Bones’; though I’ll never admit it to Jim, the little shit. Len’s okay too, just so’s you know. Whatever you’re comfortable with… So, you said you wanted to get to know me. What’d you wanna know?”

Spock paused, considering.

Len let him take his time and started in on his chili. Spock would know doubt sort his questions out into some sort of  _ logical _ order. But Leonard’d be damned if he didn’t have at least a few bites in before Spock started grilling him.

He was halfway through his biscuit before Spock came to a decision.

“You often make reference to your daughter, and her artwork adorns your quarters. She is of utmost importance to you, and to Jim as well. Yet I know very little of her. Tell me about her?”

If the food had made Leonard light up, he was incandescent at the mere mention of his daughter. 

“Well, let’s see… Her name’s Joanna Lee Mccoy. Shit, she’ll be nine next month. She lives with her mama in Georgia. Don’t get to visit her as much as I’d like, but I com her every chance I get. I’ll have to tell her about you sooner or later. She knows I have two soulmates of course, I told her when I told her about Jim. She still asks from time to time whether I’ve found you or not… I haven’t told her about you yet, cause then she’d want to  _ meet _ you. And I don’t know what you think of kids, or if you even  _ like _ kids…!”

He was rambling.

Spock lightly touched his sleeve and Leonard ground to an awkward halt. More out of surprise than anything else, Spock didn’t touch people willy-nilly like that.

“Leonard. You and Jim are my T’hy’lara. You do not need to ask my permission to inform others of the fact. I will not lie to you, I have no experience with children, much less human children. But I will do my best to comport myself properly in her presence.”

Leonard’s throat went tight. Here was Spock, surprised with a, well essentially a step child. And he wasn’t complaining, or asking to avoid her. Just taking it in stride and promising to do his best. Even if it was way out of his comfort zone. “Think you could knock me over with a feather if I ever saw you acting  _ improperly _ .” 

_ Damnation, think I just fell a little bit in love with the pointy eared bastard! _

* * *

 

 

**_Subtle Sass Master:_ ** _ You were correct in your observations captain. _

 

**_Subtle Sass Master:_ ** _ His smile is beautiful when he speaks of his daughter. _

 

Jim couldn’t stop grinning for the rest of the shift.

* * *

 

 

“Check.”

Spock eyed the board. When the two had sat down to a game, Leonard had warned him that Jim played with a “fly by the seat of his pants” attitude. It was an odd turn of phrase, but as the game had progressed Spock found it to be none the less accurate. And it served him fairly well. It might have been unvulcan of him, but it was one of the most stimulating games he had played in some time, and he was thoroughly enjoying it. 

He moved his knight to intercept, then sat back to await Jim’s move. His eyes roved over Jim and Leonard’s quarters again. He was constantly finding something new. Whether it was a scruffy looking stuffed animal tucked into the corner of a shelf with Jim’s books, an antique stethoscope under glass on the desk, or the fact that the rug on the floor looked to be handmade. Each piece both opened up a new facet of his soulmates, and left him with more questions. After months of mysteries, he wasn’t sure where to begin in cataloging the sudden influx of data. But he was looking forward to trying.

Leonard was stretched out on the couch, a pad in hand as he worked his way through a new medical journal. His feet rested on Jim’s lap, not that Jim seemed to mind. The captain was running a thumb up and down the top of Leonard’s foot while he studied the board. Occasionally he’d ghost his fingers against the arch of Leonard’s foot. The doctor would twitch and send him a glare, and Jim would meet it with a smirk.

It was interesting for Spock, to see them like this. Before, Spock had only ever seen them together in a professional capacity. He’d seen them off duty before and after shift, certainly. But even then, there was a certain amount of restraint between them. They were in the public eye, and they didn’t allow themselves to relax too far. 

But here in the privacy of their quarters all tension was gone. 

The whole evening had had an air of domesticity to it that he wouldn’t have expected to find between his boisterous Captain and irritable CMO. Leonard had laid out supper for them, Jim had teased about his choices, and Leonard had made him take care of the dishes in apparent retaliation. Spock had offered to help, but Leonard had waved him off, citing Spock’s providing lunch earlier as a valid exemption. Afterwards, Leonard had pushed Spock towards the chess board and settled down to ‘read my medical journal in peace damn it!’. 

Jim moved a pawn in what appeared to be a suicide move and ghosted his fingers over Leonard’s insole again. 

“God damnit Jim!” Leonard grumbled and lightly kicked their soulmate in the chest. Jim snickered and caught his ankle, pinning it in place so that Leonard couldn’t kick him again. “Damnation… Jim, let go, or else.”

“Or else what? Come on Bones, if you’re not going to play with us then you could at least play for us.”

“Infant.” Leonard groused. 

Jim gave him an imploring look. 

Over the past several months, Spock had discovered that he had a difficult time denying that look outside of a professional setting. Leonard, it seemed, was only mildly more successful. 

This was not one of those times.

“Fine!” The doctor tossed down his pad with a snarl and grabbed the case from under the couch. It surprised Spock, he had thought Leonard would retrieve the darkly colored guitar hanging on the wall. The guitar he pulled out of the case was clearly something he had possessed for a long time. It showed clear signs of age, but was just as clearly well maintained. The honeyed oak finish still gleamed in the artificial lights, satin warm and soft. Leonard played his hands lovingly across the neck and strings. He picked at them, and at the knobs. Ensuring the instrument was still in tune. A few minor adjustments, and he was ready to play. 

He narrowed his eyes at Jim, lips pursed. “What’d you want me to play?”

“Whatever you like. You know I’m just a slut for your playing.”

Leonard did not look impressed. 

“Shut up an’ play the damn game Jim.”

“What do I get if I win?”

“You can pick dinner tomorrow.”

“Ha! I’m going to pick something disgustingly greasy and you won’t say shit! And if Spock wins?”

“Then you can play the guitar for us.”

Jim nodded slowly. “Sounds fair. That work for you Spock?”

Spock inclined his head. “That is acceptable. I look forward to hearing you play. Leonard also.” He shifted his rook three places and arched an eyebrow at his soulmate. “Your move.”

“Are you tra… Bones! Did he just trash talk me?! Oh, you’re on!”

His attention flitted back to the board.

Spock’s attention was on Leonard’s hands. In general, it would have been considered rude to stare at someone else’s hands. But Leonard was his soulmate, and there was nothing wrong with appreciating one’s soulmate. There was certainly a lot to admire. Leonard’s hands were strong. The nails were neatly trimmed and he had more calluses than one might’ve expected from a surgeon. Spock had always admired the skill of them. The steadiness of them. It was only more recently that he’d begun to wonder what else they might be capable of on a more… personal level.

The doctor picked out a note idly, brow furrowed in thought.

“Hm… how about…” 

Deft fingers picked out a melody. Simple and quick at first, then picking up chords as it went on. 

Jim gave a soft laugh, tossing a knight up a level to counter Spock’s rook. He sat back against the couch, tossing Leonard a lazy grin. When Leonard reached what seemed to be the chorus, Jim started to quietly sing along. His voice was a pleasing tenor, smooth and confident. Spock had never heard Jim sing, but if he’d been asked to speculate, he would’ve guessed at a voice like this for Jim. 

“You can call me crazy, I don't care. The odds are bad, but the chance is there. A long shot at love, is better than no shot. Right now, that's all I've got to get to you. So I gotta believe. A long shot at love is better than no shot. My heart won’t let me stop until I get to you, the way you get to me.”

Singing along with Leonard’s guitar seemed to distract Jim from the game. It only took Spock a further fifteen minutes to put him in checkmate. Spock had never seen a being so delighted to be beaten. When he expressed his surprise, Leonard just rolled his eyes, quietly drumming his fingers against the body of his guitar. 

“You’re a challenge Spock. Of course he’s excited… Come on Jim, hurry up an’ get your guitar already! Joanna’s gonna call in about an hour an’ a half.”

Jim rolled off the couch to get the guitar from it's place on the wall. “Right, like Joanna’d be heartbroken to have you play for her.”

Jim settled himself back into his seat, tangling his legs with his soulmate’s. Where the doctor’s guitar was a beautiful honey color, Jim’s was a rich, dark chocolate. He went through the same motions Leonard did, checking his instrument over and tuning it to match Len’s. When he was satisfied, he shot Leonard a grin.

“Alright. What did you wanna play Bones?”

“What about ‘Home’?”

“Fine, but you’re singing melody.”

“Brat.”

Jim just snickered and started into the melody, quick and sure. He was every bit as skilled as Leonard, and of the two Spock couldn’t have picked out who was better. Jim lightly thumped his fingers against the body of his guitar, adding a layer of percussion as the song progressed. 

Leonard's voice was deeper than Jim’s, somewhere between a low tenor and a baritone. Jim joined him on the refrain, their voices harmonizing beautifully.

“Settle down, it’ll all be clear. Don’t pay no mind to the demons, they fill you with fear. Troubles, they might drag you down. If you get lost you can always be found. Just know you’re not alone. I’m gonna make this place your home.”

They sang several songs for him that night before Joanna McCoy commed. But in the days to come, none would ever resonate with Spock as strongly as that one did.

“...just know you’re not alone. I’m gonna make this place your home.”

* * *

 

 

“Daddy!”

“Joanna!” Len hollered right back. Lord, every time she called it was like she’d dropped her own personal little ray of sunshine on him. Didn’t matter what sort of day he’d had, just seeing her always made him smile.

“Daddy, I got to ride a pony today!”

“You did? That’s wonderful sugar bug! How’d you manage that one?”

He grinned as he listened to her babble on about how she’d gone to a friend’s birthday party, and said friend’s ma had arranged for pony rides at the party. Len would’ve thought pony rides were something you’d do for a younger kid’s party, but to each their own. Apparently Joanna rode an ungodly amount of times, and the pony’s name was Cocoa. Lord, he could smell the horse fixation already. Not that he was upset, there were plenty worse things she could’ve gotten obssessed with.

Well, at least he had a notion what she wanted for her birthday. 

Not that he’d get her an  _ actual _ pony of course! Her mama would kill him! But a book about horses, or a necklace with a horse pendant would be ok. Maybe he’d get her a stuffed pony. She was coming up fast on that age where stuffed animals were a gamble, but seeing as how the bed behind her still had a pile of them, it was probably a safe bet.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and had to hide a smirk. Vulcans didn’t fidget… but lord he’d bet Spock  _ wanted _ to. His soulmate was sitting off to one side, back ramrod straight and face set. A part of him was certain that face was the vulcan version of ‘internally panicing’.

“Dad? Are you listening?”

Whoops, busted. 

“No, I’m listenin’ sweetheart. You’re tryin’ to talk your ma into riding lessons. If I’m remembering right, the state park has a stable. Can’t remember if they offer lessons or not, but those horses would be used to carrying new riders.”

“Maybe… Are you sure you’re ok? Is everything alright out there in space Dad?”

“Yeah sugar bug, I’m fine. Just a little distracted.” It was on the tip of his tongue to call Spock over to meet Joanna. The fresher door slid open behind him, and Jim came trotting back in. Completely unaware that he was giving Spock a breather, Jim lit up and came bounding over to the com. 

“Is that Joanna? Bones, why didn’t you tell me she was on the com?!”

Joanna’s hand blurred as she waved at the screen. “Hi Jim!”

“Jojo!” Jim bellowed back excitedly. “How’s my favorite she-devil?! Did your spelling bee go ok? You beat ‘em all?” 

She leaned out of screen and came back brandishing a small medal. “Second. But Mellissa studied really  _ really _ hard, so I don’t feel bad about losing to her.”

“Sounds like she deserved it then.” Jim agreed sagely. “Second is great! We’re really proud of you Jojo!”

“Thanks.” she tried to smother a giggle and failed. 

Jim making faces at her didn’t help put a stop to them either.

The blond elbowed him, and Len shot a half hearted glare at him. “What?”

“Did you tell her yet?”

Joanna zeroed in immediately. “Tell me what?”

Len shot a questioning glance at Spock. The vulcan inclined his head, and rose from his seat. Well, no time like the present then. “Darlin’ you remember when I told you I had two soulmates?” She nodded excitedly. “Well… Jim an’ I found our third…” 

Joanna squealed, hands flailing in her excitement.

Jim was cackling at her, and Len couldn’t help but smile. Jim and Joanna had gotten along like a house on fire right from the start. They just clicked. Joanna pretty much considered Jim a second Dad at this point, and Jim adored her with every fiber of his being. He truly was blessed to have a soulmate that got along so well with his daughter. 

Now to find out if God had seen fit to bless him twice. 

“...would you like to meet him?”

If her look was anything to go by, he must’ve grown a second head. “You have to ask? Yes! Of course I wanna meet him! What’s his name? Is he there on your ship with you? Are you and Jim gonna bring him with you the next time you come see me? What’s his favorite color?”

Len was smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. “Slow down baby girl, hold your horses.” He waved Spock over, and their soulmate obligingly stepped into the frame, leaning over Jim and Leonard’s shoulders. Joanna looked a little taken aback to see a vulcan, but she didn’t seem repulsed by the idea. Maybe this really could work. “Joanna Lee, this is Commander Spock. He’s the First Officer and Chief Science Officer here aboard the Enterprise. So yes, he’s here on the ship with us. I don’t know if he’s coming with us the next time we visit, we ain’t planned that far ahead. And his favorite color is…?” He looked to Spock for that one.

Spock arched an eyebrow. “Favoring one color over another is illogical, there is no inherent superiority between one section of the light spectrum and another.”

Len was pretty sure Jim was going to roll his eyes right out of his skull. 

Spock had better watch it. While it was impressive that he could invoke that kind of reaction in Jim, it’d be bothersome to put his eyes back in his head if he actually succeeded.

“ _ Spock… _ ” Jim giggled.

Vulcans didn’t sigh, but Spock came pretty damn close. “I frequently purchase personal items in blue or orange, depending on what is available.” He conceded.

Huh. Not what Len would’ve expected. Universe was just full of surprises.

Joanna accepted the information sagely. “At least it wasn’t  _ puce _ . I don’t think I could like a boy dating you if his favorite color was puce.”

What the hell kinda color was  _ puce _ ?

“Glad I have your approval princess.” He sat back, watching as Jim and Joanna pulled Spock into conversation again and again. They coaxed him out and surprised him with their off the wall topics. Everything from terran cats to what sort of things a scientist aboard the Enterprise might study, and why Spock had two titles. 

As the conversation went on, Spock quickly lost the nervousness about talking to Joanna. She was a smart little cookie, and she asked genuine questions. Len couldn’t help but smile as he watched, and offered comments now and again. Usually when Jim made some hair brained suggestion. He was happy to see that Spock might be inexperienced when it came to kids, but he still had enough common sense to nix ideas like Joanna trying to prank a teacher with the old siran wrap across the door trick.

Eventually, Joanna had to end the call and head to bed.

Jim lightly brushed his knuckles across Spock’s cheek. “So Spock, what’d you think of Bones’ little hellion? Not as bad as you thought right? And she’s definitely prettier than he is.”

Spock leaned into Jim’s touch. 

Jim had been vulcan kissing Spock for months, ever since Spock had explained the different kisses to him. Jim had excitedly relayed the information to Len as soon as he’d gotten home from that particular date. After that, Jim had set out on a mission to vulcan kiss Spock every chance he got, but only where no one would see. He knew Spock wasn't exactly comfortable with public displays of affection, and he didn't want to push. Given that they’d only activated the day before, Len intended to wait on kisses until Spock got a little more used to the idea of being soulmates with him. As for Jim, he was sticking to the affectionate family/friends style kiss for now. But Spock always welcomed it, as if he were being given a rare gift. It made Len wonder what sort of short supply Spock had before when it came to affection. If his mother had been the only one to openly give him that…

… well, his extreme reaction on the bridge made even  _ more _ sense.

The vulcan returned the gesture, brushing his knuckles across the back of Jim’s free hand. “I found the conversation enjoyable. She is curious and intuitive. She also shares a great many traits with Leonard, both mentally and physically. I look forward to further interactions with her, if Leonard permits.”

“As if I’d stop either of you.” Len pushed his soulmates back toward the sleeping area, grabbing up Jim’s pajamas and hurling them at his head as soon as they were through the door. He blissfully ignored Jim’s indignant squawk in favor of retrieving his own sleep clothes. “Well, Jim I might stop, you’re a horrible influence half the time. But I think Spock’ll be fine.  ‘Sides, she seems to’ve taken a shine to ‘im.”

“Yeah, I saw that. Wasn’t sure at first, she sure wasn’t expecting a vulcan, but you’ve definitely won her over Spock.” Jim agreed. “She likes you. You’ve got her seal of approval.”

“I… I am honored…” Spock’s voice was an odd mash of conflicting emotions. Humbled, bewildered, awed, and so genuinely shocked that Joanna would accept him.  _ Like _ him...

“Ah, to hell with it.” 

Heart swelling in his chest, Leonard couldn’t resist. He leaned over to drag his knuckles affectionately down Spock’s cheek. And he grinned at the floored expression he got in return. “Don’t look so surprised Spock. We McCoys ‘ave always been good judges of character. Of course Joanna’d take a liking to you. An’ so did I. Now get changed and get into bed. I’m tired, and we all know tomorrow’s gonna be a hell of a long day.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters to go guys! Just warning you now, next chapter's gonna be mostly the usual Enterprise version of 'Murphy's Law' and Bones and Spock finally hearing about the Tarsus IV bullshit. So... yeah, next chapter is probalby going to be heartbreaking and angsty as shit, just warning you now. Hence the niceness here. 
> 
> The song Len plays: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PN9gRDExi_Y
> 
> The song Len and Jim play together: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OTg1n95--KE

**Author's Note:**

> Yes? No? Maybe so?
> 
> Tell me what you think in the comments below!
> 
> You can come play with me on Tumblr too, if you've a mind to. https://dragonimpal67.tumblr.com/


End file.
